Of Light
by Amorisa
Summary: The Emerald must be returned to its Guardian, and DG is left behind. When a generations-old threat resurfaces, DG must gather more than courage to save her sister, and find Wyatt Cain.
1. Chapter One

**Author's Note: **Insert generic quippy disclaimer here. Do not own. **  
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* * *

**Of Light  
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**Chapter One  
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* * *

_- Central City -_

* * *

The Queen of the O.Z. wandered a fitful path at night.

Unaccustomed to the physical aspects of life outside her barren prison, a body that required food and sleep, her life had become routineless, and she felt a slave to her body's desires, like an infant. She ate what food was put before her by her staff, and she slept when fatigue overcame her. But at night, when her husband slept peacefully, she would leave her bedchamber and walk the halls of the restored palace at Finaqua.

The week following the Eclipse, the Witch's Tower, she'd shifted constantly between boundless energy and debilitating exhaustion. The regime of Azkadellia's tyranny crumbled as word leaked down the floors that the witch had been killed, and proof in the sky that their plans had failed. Hundreds of Longcoats had been captured by Resistance fighters, and imprisoned within their own fortress.

As that historic day (had it only been a month before?) came to a close, as the suns set on their celestial path and natural darkness fell over the land, the Royal Family and their accompaniment moved quietly to an abandoned embassy within the walls of the Central City. The Queen and her Royal Consort had made a public announcement the next day, from the platform in Central City Square, that the Sorceress Azkadellia had been overthrown, and made known for the first time to the lands of the O.Z. of their daughter's possession, of the Dark Witch who had lived within her body and taken over the country. They spoke of the survival of their youngest daughter, the Princess DG, though both young women remained sequestered within the protective walls of the embassy.

In her selfishness, restoring the lakeside palace had been one of the first projects. The servants of the Witch's Tower were sent to Finaqua, a welcome relief to the terror-filled men and women who had been under enslavement to the Sorceress for so long. DG had laughed, seeing the servants off with a company of men spared by the Resistance army. She'd volunteered to the task. "It will be my first royal duty, Mother," she'd said. Coming back from the docking bay where she'd witnessed the departure, she was still grinning. "You'd think that you were sending them on vacation, instead of back to work."

The Queen had said nothing. DG, though her guilt for past events permeated most everything she did, had no real idea of the pain and mistreatment the people of the O.Z. - HER people - had suffered for so long under the Sorceress' reign. Tin suits, dead orchards, and tense Resistance fighters did little to convey to the young princess the terror of nine annuals of Azkadellia's rule.

When the palace was suitable for the Royal family to move in, they had done so without delay. While DG had kept up conversation, speaking to Glitch mostly about the Other Side, telling him things of thirteen year school systems ("Really? They keep them there that long?") and her motorcycle, quiet Azkadellia had stared out the window, watching as they slowly passed dense forest, one tree bleeding into the next. Her oldest daughter had barely blinked as the army truck jolted over ruts and tree roots that had overtaken the untended road. Out of the corner of her eye, The Queen kept a watchful gaze on her elder daughter, constantly aware of the sweet mouth that had poured threats and death.

"Will we be at Finaqua soon?" DG asked her mother. The Queen, brought back to her reality, nodded. DG sighed, and reached over to take her sister's hand. Azkadellia's pale fingers gripped DG's, but her eyes did not leave the scenery bouncing past outside.

* * *

_- Finaqua -_

* * *

The first night within the walls of her beloved family home, her sleeplessness had surprised her. Thinking herself as free for the first time, truly free, since her imprisonment nine annuals before, she'd made love to her husband in her grand bedroom suite. The ghosts of the past, fifteen annuals of separation, had left them clinging to each other in a way that had both taken her aback and fulfilled her. But as Ahamo fell asleep beside her, relaxed and drained, her lavender eyes had stayed open, watching shadows fall across the room. Darkness, it always captured fear in her, deep somewhere inside. Her prison had never been dark, only one long endless day of rolling white sky.

On that night began her journeys through the halls of Finaqua. Roaming through rooms yet unfinished, ghosts of furniture looming up from corners, windows so dirty she couldn't see outside. She'd rushed the staff, moved in as soon as the palace had been considered "inhabitable". Almost everything was still incomplete, some rooms still closed, locked. Every mirror she passed, she refused to look into. Demons seemed to lurk up behind her, and in the reflective glass, she could see them. Demons of past mistakes, of a blundering future none of them could predict. Ahamo had suggested consulting a viewer, perhaps DG's friend and guardian, Raw. Would she consider it? No, never, of course not.

Days were spent seeking moments of reprieve, of rest. Endless stacks of documents, reinstating one parliament official or the next, "erased" towns seeking aid to rebuild, bringing peace and order back to the melting pot of the Central City, redeeming the Tin Men. The Army of Resistance, a title bestowed by The Queen to her official force, were pushing her to pursue Longcoats that, rumor whispered, were gathering en masse near the borders of the desert to the West. Personal issues were put aside in those first weeks, when the paperwork would not cease. Azkadellia's refusal to speak, DG's restlessness at being couped up in the palace, the reinsertion of Ambrose's brain... every matter close to her heart had to wait. A sundered country needed her more.

At first, she hadn't worried about the girls. Thought, a little foolishly perhaps, that their friendship and love would overcome the barrier around Azkadellia. She would often find them in the only parlour that was clean and ordered, clasping hands on the window seat, staring out at the lake. No light shone between them, it was just the holding of hands, the comforting touch of skin. DG watched her sister, seeking redemption, but Az had none to give; none for her sister and none for herself.

During her wanderings, she had discovered both of her daughters, her beautiful dark-haired girls, were sharing her unrest. Though both young women slept, their slumber was fitful. DG thrashed in her bed, shifting her weight back and forth, flailing arms; she muttered, words The Queen had to creep close to hear. She did not fear for DG, as the girl whispered in her sleep memories that were leaking through the broken magical barriers; very few memories remained, but DG was beginning to remember them.

Azkadellia's sleep was plagued by pain. Watching from the doorway, scared to go any closer, she saw Az's head roll from side to side on the pillows; she heard whimpers of terror escape from her daughter's throat, raw and haunted. Azkadellia, a prisoner in her own right, faced the guilt of survival, the evil taint left by the Witch.

"They have much to overcome," Ahamo reassured her, when she'd spoken of her concerns, of the nighttime path she cut between the two bedrooms. She'd lowered her own head to the pillow for three hours of unrest before being awoken with much fanfare, much to-do, and many a bright "Good morning, your Majesty!" Her eyes burned, but her sense of purpose for the day had already taken over her mind.

"My darling, what they have to overcome stretches far beyond the horror of the Tower. She still refuses to speak, trapping herself in her own misery and guilt."

"Well," Ahamo said, thoughtfully. "What would you have her say? Do you want her to apologize to you, like a reprimanded child? To stand before the country, and be punished for her crimes?" His words were harsh, but his tone soft.

The Queen shook her head. "No, of course not. But a word, just one! Or a smile, something to let us know that our daughter is still within that shell of a body."

"The remorse she shows is enough to let us know that she truly is." Ahamo sipped his coffee, watching his wife over the steaming cup. "I'm a little surprised she hasn't collapsed yet, carrying around the weight that she does. Helping you lay the emerald to rest once again will help bring her to her senses. And DG... DG is doing a wonderful job trying to bring her sister out into the light."

He laughed, watching as his wife shook her head and tried to suppress a roll of her eyes. "DG is another matter that worries me."

He put a hand over hers. "I think DG is the least of our worries."


	2. Chapter Two

**Author's Note: **Thanks to all my readers, reviewers, and subscribers.**  
**

* * *

**Of Light  
**

**Chapter Two  
**

* * *

_- Lakeshore -  
_

* * *

DG walked the lake shore with Raw once a day. Most times were quiet, as he always had little to say; occasionally, she'd find herself overcome with the need to speak of silly things, Other Side things. He always nodded though, like he knew of alternators that refused to keep a battery charged, and of charcoals that made black look so unnaturally... _black_. She enjoyed his hushed, monosyllabic responses, and his calming nature, the way it always managed to quell the uneasiness that she felt in her new life and royal role. Truth be told, she _needed_ their walks together.

"Mother and Az travel tomorrow to the Tombs. 'To lay the emerald to rest'. I get to stay home, all by myself. No babysitter!"

Raw chuckled low in his throat. "DG has entire palace of babysitters. Father will still be at Finaqua."

DG smiled. She watched the shoreline for fish basking in the sun and reeds. "And you, too, Raw. And Tutor, and Glitch. And an entire staff of people watching everything I do. I swear I'm going to suffocate. I thought Mother and Az would take a parade of people with them, but..." She trailed off. Only Cain and a handful of Resistance soldiers would accompany her mother and Azkadellia. _Why Cain?_ She'd asked herself too many times. Raw did not interrupt her thoughts, just walked quietly beside her. He was surprised when she spoke again, on a completely different train of thought.

"A month and a half since I left the Other Side, Raw." She stopped walking, her bare feet sinking a depression in the soft, wet ground. The suns bore down brightly, wanting to snuff out her thoughts with laziness and warmth. "You know, I wonder all the time if my friends wondered where I went. If my parents and I – my foster-robot parents I mean – were reported missing. We disappeared! Gone! Just … poof." The last word fell, anticlimactic.

Raw stood silent. She turned to him, bright blue eyes filling with tears. "I don't know if our house was destroyed by that Travel Storm. What happens to a house that has a Travel Storm sidle right up to it? Glitch doesn't know, he says its information he keeps in his other brain." She tossed her friend a smile; her Other Side self still thought the idea of removing the brain and retaining the mind ridiculous. "And Tutor, his 'field of study' is magic, not meteorologic alchemy."

DG was quiet a long time, staring out at the reflections of the suns on the water. Finaqua.

"I wonder when someone noticed, is all. My boss at the diner would have fired me over an answering machine, never thought that something might have happened to me and my family. Was it when Pop didn't show up at the hardware store for a couple of days? Did one of his friends come, to see the farm destroyed and us not there?"

Again, silence. Raw put his furry hand on her shoulder, hoping to comfort her. Her despair radiated through her skin, and he wondered, momentarily, how long she had worried about this. It was deeply rooted, cloaked by tears and clouds of emotion. Hard to read.

An insect, close kin to a dragonfly, bright red and dual winged, flitted past her face. Its flight clicked, adding to the realness of where she was, and of what she was speaking. "I don't miss my life on the Other Side," she said. "I just wonder when or if it missed me."

* * *

_- The Dining Hall -_

* * *

She hadn't changed her dress before dinner, and so the subject of etiquette lessons came up again over their soup.

"Wasn't there a dress laid out for you in your room?" her mother asked.

DG nodded slowly. "There might have been. I came to dinner straight from the library."

"The library? What were you reading about?" Ahamo inquired of his daughter. He was not fazed by his anxious wife, but comfortable sitting amongst his family.

"Travel storms," DG said, a little offhandedly. "I was just wondering how they worked, if you had to summon them or if they roamed wild somewhere..."

Ahamo smiled. "Well, you won't need to worry about Travel Storms. It's hard to get a royal escort to agree to use one. If you need to go anywhere, a car or carriage will take you there easily." He caught her eye, and gave his head the slightest shake.

DG thought a subject change was in order. "Do you know how long you will be gone?" she asked her mother. Their soup bowls were cleared away by attendants and their supper brought out. The queen folded her napkin, and smiled at her daughter.

"Not long. Three days, perhaps. We can't travel by car for most of the trip."

DG pushed away an image of her mother navigating her father's balloon, silk dress and day robe. "Horseback?" she asked. The Queen nodded. Horses, and riding, had ended up being her saving grace in her new life. She'd grown up in a farming community, and although she wasn't trained properly, although she rode faster and harder than even Ahamo, she didn't make a fool of herself. And that was something.

"Ambrose," The Queen said, "will you please remind me what time Captain Cain will arrive tomorrow?"

"He'll probably be here around midnight," Glitch said, quite unceremoniously. While DG was used to his... _obliviousness_, she knew her mother had a harder time accepting the new Ambrose. With his brain back inside his head and his hair growing back after the removal of the classifying zipper, he was a man who suffered most of the day with mental overload. "He and the rest of your escort will be ready to leave by first sunrise."

* * *

_- Azkadellia's Chambers -_

* * *

After dinner, DG sat in Azkadellia's bedroom. She was at the foot of the bed, her sister sitting up at the head, under the covers, her legs tremulous. DG put a hand on her sister's ankle, and continued what had become their routine. DG talked, so Az wouldn't have to.

"I stopped and washed my hands after touching those mouldy old books! Then I went to dinner. My dress wasn't dirty!"

Az smiled, then waited, but DG didn't continue. So she spoke, words that poured more easily than she thought they might. "I'll be glad to leave tomorrow. I want this trip over with. The emerald needs to be safe guarded, not sitting in my jewelry box like a cheap trinket." She shook her head. DG watched her sister, sympathetically. The emerald seemed to be leaving a larger taint than the Witch. Tutor studied at the Queen's request, but there were few texts that spoke of the emerald. Everyone wanted it buried again.

"I might stay up until Cain's group arrives. I haven't seen him since we left Central City." He'd stayed behind in the city, tracking down fallen Tin Men, again at the Queen's request. DG had asked him twice to Finaqua, and once threatened to come to Central City with Ambrose to see him, but all her summons were politely declined in official dispatches sent to her mother about his progress in his task.

"You'll run into Mother in the halls," her sister warned. "She doesn't sleep at night. I heard them speaking about it, yesterday." Az smirked, the closest she'd come to a laugh in all the time since the Tower, and DG squeezed her ankle, trying to supportive, non-intrusive. It was the first time she'd heard her sister speak since that night, a month before.

"You'd better go find a hiding spot while she's still pretending to go to bed," Az said, and nudged DG away with her foot. DG nodded, said goodnight to her sister, and left the room quietly. Azkadellia got up out of bed, and went to her window. A single moon lay reflected in the surface of the lake. She could see a breeze whipping through the reeds; she opened the window. Her body carried itself to bed, her mind separated, back with the sound of the whispering fields beyond the lake.

* * *

_- The Parlour -_

* * *

Glitch beckoned to DG from the empty parlour. "I won't ask you why you aren't in your room," he said with a grin, closing the double doors behind her. "They'll pass by here walking their horses, and we can go out through the kitchen door and back to the stable."

"You've been plotting," DG laughed. She sat down in a soft armchair, and pulled up her knees. Glitch flopped down onto a sofa, lounging back. "How's your head?"

"It still feels too full," he said, placing long fingers on his temples. "And I can't get the Sunceder out of my mind. My brain was focused on that one thing for too long. It's burned there, it'll never go away." She couldn't tell if her friend was being dramatic, or if he was really worried. But the next second, he was off on another thought. "Captain Cain," he said, and shook his head. "Do I have to salute him? I know you don't, you're a princess."

"I salute no one," DG said with as much authority as she could muster without laughing. Her eyes wandered the wall shelf across from her, stacked with thick books. This room had been thoroughly cleaned, and she doubted these would spit as much dust at her as the books in the library had.

"Your mother has given me the task of demolishing the Witch's Tower. She wants the entire thing scrapped. Salt the earth, that type of thing. A lot of towns will be glad for the building materials," he said. Sometimes DG had trouble switching from Glitch to Ambrose as fast as he did.

_Maybe coming downstairs was a bad idea._

"Why was Cain assigned to my mother's detail, Ambrose?" she asked.

"He was requested by your sister," he replied; he rose and walked to the bookshelf. After a moment, he chose a volume and returned to his seat on the sofa with it, sitting upright this time, a little more dignified. Cracking it at a random place, he began to read. DG glared at him, trying to decide if Ambrose had opened the book as an end to their conversation, or if he'd simply become distracted. She sighed, not wanting to interrupt him. She glanced out the window; the glass showed nothing but reflection and darkness.

"There wasn't anyone else higher than a Tin Man?" DG asked him finally. She knew that rebuilding the army of the O.Z. was a mission whose outcome was hazy at best. After the usurpation, most of the Zone's army had vowed allegiance to Azkadellia; those who did not hid, joined the Resistance. Those who were caught were killed outright; no tin suits or torture..

"He was requested by your sister, _specially,_" he said. Then he laughed. He looked at DG over his book. "She wanted the man who helped you so much."

"You and Raw helped me _as_ much," DG pointed out. Ambrose shook his head, and went back to his book. "She's getting better, you know. She actually _talked_ to me tonight."

"Well, that's something." He didn't look up at her again.

Moments passed by, the clock on the wall ticking away the uncomfortable seconds. Silence with Glitch had once been golden, but now she would have rather had his rambling. Finally... "What are you reading?"

"No idea," he said, and laid the book open in his lap. "It was going on about trading protocols within the different regions of the O.Z. But it kept mentioning products that I've never heard of. Or forgot about. So I figure I'll just read until I remember. There are some books over there about the Gale dynasty, if you're interested."

DG didn't think a book would be able to hold her attention at the moment. It was getting late, the clock on the wall said it was getting close to midnight. "I think I'm going to go sit in the gazebo, I'll be able to see them come around the maze from there. I'll see you down there, if you can tear yourself away from your book."

"No, I'll come with you." He put the book aside, stood and stretched his lanky frame. His state of dress was somewhat disheveled, collar unbuttoned and jacket open. DG led the way out the side door and down a passage that led them directly to the kitchen. Together they stumbled blindly to the gazebo by the lake. By the time they reached the open platform, Ambrose had tripped over a thick root sticking out over the path and DG had put her foot in the water. Otherwise unscathed, they sat on the step, away from the swing.

The night sky was littered with stars. DG sat back on her hands, staring upwards. "Are there constellations?" she wondered aloud.

"Some, not many," he said, following her gaze. "I can't remember most of them. But there is the Bell, and I think there is one with a bear."

"They have a bear constellation on the Other Side, too," DG mused. "I couldn't tell you where it was in the sky, but I know it was up there somewhere. I think there was a big one and a little one. Minor and Major."

"If Cain keeps up these missions for your mother, he'll be up for Major. Uniform and regalia and shiny medals," Ambrose shook his head and chucked to himself. "Can you imagine them trying to fight that cowboy out of his hat?"

"Yeah, he sure does like his hat," she said, casting a side glance at her companion. An image of Cain swam before her eyes. She missed him. Her connections with this world, while prestigious, were few. She felt comfortable with Cain, the way he could manage the ground beneath his feet. He was practical, no nonsense, like the people she'd grown up around. He was small-town, Cain. She wondered, briefly, if he'd always been serious, quiet, non-reflective. Or had the horrors of his imprisonment altered him in that way.

Ambrose hummed a little to himself. DG decided to risk it. "Why did Azkadellia _specially_ request Cain for this?"

He stopped humming, and shook his head a little. He stared skyward still. "You'd have to ask her, DG. Her orders were sealed in a letter sent directly to the Captain. She didn't speak to me personally about it. Hasn't talked to me at all, actually, since the Fall and the return to Finaqua. Still sees this, I think," he said, and gestured vaguely to the uneven hair on his crown.

DG strained her ears, but all she could hear was the sound of insects, the breeze, the water lapping the shore. It was a different kind of night than the ones she'd had in Kansas, staring out her tiny attic window, but somehow it reminded her of home. But then out of nowhere, the sound of horses, the slow plod of hooves hitting the packed dirt of the road that wound around the maze broke through her thoughts and the night magic.

Cain's party had arrived.


	3. Chapter Three

**Author's Note: Thank you to all my readers, reviewers, and subscribers.  
**

* * *

**Of Light  
**

**Chapter Three**

* * *

****_- The Fields of the Papay - _

* * *

Finaqua was a full day's journey from Central City. Wyatt Cain and his company of men, five young Resistance fighters still high off their triumph at the Tower a month before, left at first sunrise in a military transportation truck. As they approached the Papay fields, Cain shook his head, glancing down to his hands. His last trip south had been perilous, every second worrying about not only his life, but a princess who randomly discharged magic from her hands. It felt almost like a cruel joke that he would travel to the gorge unhindered, and ride south from there on a healthy mount.

"Trees are comin' back really fast," the driver of the vehicle, an old royal army veteran, commented. His gnarled hands gripped the steering wheel in the proper driving position, and though he watched the road, he talked of the scenery. "Heard a man down in Central City talkin' about how it was the Light coming back into the country that brought the trees back to life."

"Well," said Cain thoughtfully, pushing the brim of his hat up so he could see more of the orchards. "I wouldn't know what to tell you about the Light or the trees. Life is more than coincidence." He watched branches that overhung the road. Green shoots burst forth from most tree limbs, a few even sported soft pink blossoms. He thought, perhaps, he saw a Papay granger walking the rows, treating the trees, but it was difficult to tell at their steady speed. A glimpse, and then lost.

"Looks like most all the fields will be all right. I hope myself it's a bountiful harvest. Sick to death of the fare in Central City. All processed, magicked; it's garbage. Who wants it? Fresh fruit. Apples, you remember apples?"

Cain rolled his eyes. "Of course I remember apples. Might not be able to remember what they taste like, though."

He opened the window behind him, looking out on the flatbed covered with canvas. His five servicemen were sitting with their backs to the wood planks that made up the side of the box, shouting to each other. Over the sound of the road and their own conversation, none of the men had heard him open the window, didn't know he was listening. Azkadellia was their topic. It seemed not one of them knew what to think about the task they'd been given. Protecting a princess who was a usurper, whose reign of terror had touched all their lives. Why had they all joined the Resistance in the first place, but to fight Azkadellia and her army. Now they were ordered to protect her?

"The Queen, too. She'll be with us as well."

Cain closed the window, turned back to the road. He knew the men were not informed of the reason for their being assigned to the two royals. The Queen herself had chosen the men from stacks of papers sent to her by Jeb Cain, photos and service details.

But Cain's first surprise had hit him when the envelope bearing her Majesty's royal seal had arrived on his desk at the new Tin Man Armouries in the Central City. The second surprise lay inside the envelope. On top of the records of the five chosen soldiers lay a letter for him from the Princess Azkadellia. She summoned him to lead the group. The writing was delicate, seeming to Cain that if he breathed too hard on the paper the fragile words would break apart. News coming from the palace – unofficial word from Ambrose, not anything released for the general public – was that Azkadellia kept herself secluded, rarely spoke to anyone, only spent time with DG, or only in the company of others if she was forced. "She's ashamed, she can barely look anyone in the face," was what Glitch had told him. Of DG, when he asked his friend had nothing new to report. "She fights with her mother about petty things. She rides her horse too fast, runs through the hallways, comes home dirty."

Cain smiled out the window at the thought of DG, dressed in some soft material, her hair unruly and her blue eyes twinkling mischief.

"How long until we reach the gorge?" Cain asked the vet.

"About another hour and a half or so," his companion estimated. "I don't know why I ain't taking you all the way south to the lake country. The road goes almost the full way to Finaqua. But drop you off at the bridge, them are my orders."

Cain said nothing. He was not privy to speak of such confidential matters.

The night before, Jeb had made a brief stop at Cain's apartment a few blocks from the Armouries in the Bellicose District. He had chosen to stay with the Army of Resistance instead of joining his father with the Tin Men, as Cain had subtly suggested once. The younger Cain had passed up several official promotions, promotions that would have taken him to a higher rank than his father. Of this they did not speak, though Cain wondered if his son knew that his advancement would be a source of great pride.

"Do you know how long until you'll be back in Central City?" Jeb had asked, sitting at the small kitchen table. The entire apartment was unadorned. Cain's new salary could have afforded him a place much larger than this. Even Jeb's own place was a little bigger, a better view. But, it was just another of many things that were left alone.

"Oh, it depends. To leave Finaqua and come back safely, perhaps three or four days. Depends on how well the women travel, I suppose, and the obstacles we find in our way. Country isn't safe out there, that's for damn sure." Cain sighed, zipping his duffel closed. It lay on the bed, reminding him of his morning departure. "But honestly, I doubt DG will let me leave Finaqua without staying a few extra days. So I'll probably hang around, making sure the new household guard is settled in the palace, knows the grounds, any local hazards."

Jeb laughed. "Local hazards? Bears? Or another Witch? Maybe they come in pairs."

"Hopefully there isn't anything as serious as that," Cain muttered. Words like that made him want to look over his shoulder, to know that there was nothing there. The unknown dangers of the O.Z. were beginning to unsettle him. Though he'd known the land all his life, the Darkness released along with the Witch had allowed some strange, terrifying creatures to take root in the wilderness.

"Well, her Majesty certainly chose capable men. Colonel Knowlton, however," Jeb paused there, and his work-face cracked into a smile. A big smile. "Knowlton is pissed. Passed over for a Tin Man."

"Look, I'd gladly let Knowlton go if I had a choice." Cain looked unimpressed with his situation; Jeb noted with satisfaction, however, that he'd still packed his bag, and had his gear ready to go for early morning.

"A trip to the lake and a walk through the woods," Cain said with a sigh, and rubbed his eyes. He moved the duffel off the bed, and sat down hard.

"Well, don't let DG keep you too long," Jeb said, getting up from his chair. He turned to leave. "We've got _jobs_ to do now, this country isn't going to rebuild itself. You know, no one in the Resistance ever talked about how much work this was going to be once we had won."

* * *

_- The Old Road, South -_

* * *

They'd left the vet and his truck behind, traveled south through the woods. Down the same road Cain had brought DG down once before, straight to Finaqua. When the night became too dark for them to ride, they climbed down, stretched their legs, then walked their horses the remaining spans to the edge of the hedge maze. There were lanterns in their gear, but Cain didn't want to light them. The moon soon rose high, cut through the trees for them to see their path, and for them it was enough.

At the entrance to the maze, two of the palace attendants waited with lanterns. One was an older woman, the second a young man. It was the woman who spoke. "Captain, I am Bella, head of her Majesty's household staff. We are here to lead you and your party through the maze."

"We can't take our horses through there. We'll have to go around the maze."

"If you please, Captain, the Queen has requested you follow me through the maze. Leave your horse with Beaudon, he'll lead your men around the maze to the stables," she said. She gestured, and the young man moved forward. Cain dismounted, told his men to wait for him at the stables. He followed the woman into the maze.

"The Queen will receive you in her audience chamber," Bella's voice said ahead of him. She walked briskly, and after a moment he noticed she navigated the maze muttering to herself. He set his jaw, following her quiet "Left, left, right", the glow of her lantern a beacon.

* * *

_- The Gazebo -_

* * *

"Watch this."

DG felt it, like a tingle in her fingertips. She closed her eyes. The book in the library, titled _Awakenings, _had spoken of summonings. She decided, impulsively, that now would be the perfect time for her first practical application. She concentrated, not on the channel of Light, but instead on the men's voices, the sound of horses approaching. It grew louder, and she devoted thought and breath to her goal, her image in her mind. _Light._

Ambrose's eyes widened as a ball of light unfolded in DG's palm. It grew larger, until it was the size of her fist. DG's eyes were still closed; the light rolled off her palm, bounced on the ground, then became buoyant and steady. It waited.

"DG," Ambrose said. She opened her eyes; they widened as his had. He smiled as she smiled, at the way she was amazed her magic had actually worked. She laughed out loud.

"Light the way to the stable, please," she requested of the light. It dipped and bobbed, perhaps bowing to its master or perhaps just excited. The bundle of light whisked away at a lazy pace, like a will-o-the-wisp. DG laughed again, threaded her arm through Ambrose's, and headed along the lake after the light.

The light dissipated as the lanterns of the stable came into view. The stable hands moved in and out of the building, watering the horses that the group of soldiers had brought with them. The men, five of them, had dropped their packs by the fence and stood around uncomfortably.

"I don't see Cain," Ambrose said.

DG approached stubbornly. When the men saw her, they fumbled. Off came their hats, and they bowed their heads, muttering quiet "Princess" and "your Highness" to her. She wanted to wave them off, but instead, as her mother had taught her, she nodded her head, acknowledged, then moved on.

"Gentlemen, Captain Cain isn't with you?"

One stepped forward. The tag sown to his tunic read Pvt. Burrows. "No, your Highness. He was escorted through the maze by your mother's attendant. You must have missed him? It took us forty-five minutes to walk around the maze."

"It's ten minutes to go through the maze," Ambrose offered DG, though he needn't have. DG had been through the maze enough times herself to know.

DG shook her head, gave her foot a dramatic little stomp. "Damn, foiled again."

The men chuckled. Ambrose noticed them relax a little around the princess. He thought he might suggest to the Queen the idea of putting DG into a position in relations, perhaps an ambassadorship, once Azkadellia became queen.

"Would you like to come back to the house with us," DG asked, turning and pointing in the direction of lights clustered in the distance. Referring to the palace as 'the house' was one of the many ways DG coped daily with the transition of a bedroom in the eaves to a massive three-room suite.

"The Captain ordered us to wait here," Pvt. Burrows said, nodding in apology.

DG laughed. "To hell with that. I order you to escort me up to the house. Let us deal with Wyatt Cain."


	4. Chapter Four

**Author's Note**: Thank you to all my readers, reviewers, and subscribers.

* * *

**Of Light**

**Chapter Four**

* * *

_- The Reception Chamber -_

* * *

The lamps in her Majesty's audience chamber were lit, but the light was dim, filtered with dust. Some larger pieces of furniture were pushed against the walls, covered in gray drop cloths. The Queen stood behind a desk at the far end, set in front of a large window overlooking the lake. The desk was uncovered, and its top was bare.

"Your Majesty," Cain said after Bella had announced him. He removed his hat, bowed his head. When he glanced at her, her face was quite still, her lips set.

"Captain Cain," she said, sounding exhausted. "It is a pleasure to see you. We have much to discuss before our departure tomorrow. I need some assurances from you."

"There's no need to worry," Cain said. The Queen had to admit, he sounded convincing. Secure in his abilities and those of the men he led.

"It is time I told you what you need to know to protect my daughter and I," she began. She spoke for ten minutes, pacing behind her desk. Her usual composure was not enough to mask her worry. One end of the massive desk to the other, back and forth. Cain watched her, listened. He nodded when required to, but he did not interrupt the Queen. In her nervousness, she reminded Cain of DG.

"Have I made this perfectly clear, Captain?" The Queen's lavender gaze bore into him, begging for promise.

Cain shook his head, knowing he was hearing properly and wishing he understood better. "You should've chosen more men."

"No, Captain. We need this done quickly, and quietly. The Eclipse is over, they defied the Prophecy. Once the Emerald is returned, I can rest. Our country can move forward."

* * *

_- The Entrance Hall -_

* * *

The men refused to set foot inside the palace. Burrows stepped forward, spoke for his collective. "We escorted you to the palace, your Highness. We will return to the stables and wait for the Captain. Your man, Beaudon, has already shown us where we'll camp for the night."

DG turned to Ambrose. "They won't stay in the house? There are forty rooms in there!"

Ambrose shook her head. "Captain Cain requested the trouble not be taken."

She rolled her eyes. A voice rumbled behind her, in the arched doorway of the palace, left wide open. "Shouldn't you be in bed, Kid?"

DG turned to see Cain coming across the entry way, headed for the group that had amassed at the front door. It was a mere four steps to throw herself into his arms. He caught her, hugged her tight. She looked and felt different, and after a moment, he let her go. "Still fighting the dresses?"

"Hey, I was wearing a dress earlier," she said. Ambrose nodded pointedly at Cain.

"That she was. And at least she's not in denim." He pointed to the hem of her slacks, delicately embroidered with gold thread. DG held her ankle out for Cain to get a better look.

"See? Pretty pants." She was grinning.

"Ambrose, did you mention to her that she does not have any military authority?" Cain asked, nodding at his soldiers standing in the grass. They were at attention again, watching Cain and waiting for their orders.

"It might have slipped my mind to tell her that. She's just so proud of herself when she plays princess, I didn't want to interrupt her fun," Ambrose said. His arms were crossed over his chest.

"Men, back to the stables. Pitch your tents, get some sleep. I'll be there soon," Cain commanded. They nodded, two muttering "Sir!" Turning, they left, melting into the darkness beyond the light cast from the palace.

"Kinda bossy, aren't you, Cain?" DG asked him with a smile.

He shrugged. "Comes with the job, I guess."

Ambrose cleared his throat. "If you'll both excuse me, there are a few last minute details for tomorrow's departure I need to look over before I turn in." He nodded at his friends. "I'll see you tomorrow, Captain. Princess," he said, bowing his head at her. DG scowled at his back as he walked away. They heard his footsteps echoing down the corridor long after he'd turned out of sight.

"I hate it when he does that," she said. "Usually he forgets, but then every so often, he'll sneak up and bam! Hits me right in the face with his respect and deference." She cocked her head, glared up at him. "So how come it took you so long to come down here to see me?"

The corner of Cain's mouth turned up a little crookedly, as close to a smile as he ever got. "I've had business to take care of in Central City, on your mother's orders. And you know that," he said. "I managed to get a couple days leave after everything is said and done." She knew of what he spoke, and she nodded. Secrets, she hated them. But her mother's mission would only take a few days, and the end of that marked something significant.

"So you're going to stay and visit with your princess?" she teased. He nodded. "Sit in the sun with me all day doing nothing?" Again, he nodded, cracked his half smile a little wider.

DG was watching him. "What?" he asked. The smile was gone.

"I don't know. Missed you," she said, with a shrug.

"I could tell. Three letters in four weeks." But it pleased him, a little, to know that she'd missed him. "I'm sorry to leave you standing here, kiddo. I've got to get back to my men, get some sleep. You too. It's near one o'clock."

DG nodded slowly. "No one in this house sleeps. Well... my father. My father sleeps."

Cain watched her, a little confused. "You okay?"

She nodded again, breathing out slowly. "Yeah," she said. "I'll be down to see my mother and sister off in the morning. And to say goodbye to anyone else that might be there, I guess."

She hugged him again, thin arms wrapping around his shoulders, clad in rough military uniform. He smelled of the road, of the forest beyond the maze. She held on tightly, too long. Cain, though still uncomfortable with her constant need for displays of affection, didn't let go until she pulled away.

"Enjoy your tent, Mr. Cain," she said, watching him over her shoulder as she headed in the same direction as Ambrose had. Her soft slippers shuffled softly, and he lost the sound of her after she was gone from sight. He shook his head, hoping to give it a bit of a clear, but nothing happened. Sighing deeply, a sound almost resembling a growl low in his throat, he turned and walked out of the palace, closing the huge double doors behind him. He wondered briefly why there was no front hall attendant, someone guarding the doors, but his thought was quelled when he heard the clicks of several locks engaging before his foot hit the first step.

"Goodnight, Princess," he muttered to himself, walking quickly into the darkness towards the stable, his sleeping roll, and a few solid hours of sleep.

* * *

_- The Parlour -_

* * *

Ambrose was surprised to come across the Queen in the finished parlour, as he went to retrieve his books and papers. His private office wasn't yet ready, and he was using the desk here out of necessity. When he entered the room to find her Majesty at the window, he was startled.

"Ambrose," she said with a smile. "Is no one sleeping?"

He bowed his head. "The Prince Consort rests. Perhaps the Princess Azkadellia, and most of the staff, Majesty."

"Azkadellia will need rest for tomorrow," she said with a nod. She moved away from the window, towards the sofa. Ambrose watched as she set herself down gracefully; even in her state of agitation, she was lovely. "And what of DG? Does she sleep now? I've found myself busy all evening, I haven't yet had a chance..." She trailed off. She was sure Ambrose knew of her night wanderings, but admitting she watched her daughters sleep seemed too trivial in light of what was to come.

"DG is in her room now, yes." Ambrose closed the door of the parlour behind him, once again set to what he'd come for. "She waited up for the Captain's arrival. She met with him in the foyer; he's since gone to his camp and the princess is gone to bed."

"You will watch over her while we are gone, won't you Ambrose?" she asked him. Her words were quiet; in the normal bustle of the palace, perhaps in the middle of the afternoon, he might not have heard her.

"Of course, your Majesty." Ambrose nodded, and then laughed. The Queen looked at him quizzically. "Well, honestly, if it's all right for me to say, I have had a hard time _not_ watching the princess. After following her all over the O.Z., well... it's hard to break old habits. Especially new old habits."

"Thank you, Ambrose."

* * *

_- The Stables -_

* * *

Cain returned to find the men's sleeping rolls placed under a huge tree near the stables. Instead of bothering with their tents, they had decided to camp out under the stars. Cain decided to do the same, and unrolled his sleeping bag on the ground. He rolled his service jacket up to stuff under his head, and laid himself down. He angled his hat to cover his face, and closed his eyes.

In the morning, he would have to awaken the men earlier than anticipated. Brief them on everything the Queen had told him. He wondered if they would even believe him.

_She should have chosen more men_. To put off their departure for a day, he could have double the soldiers ready to escort the Queen and the Princess Azkadellia northwest over the mountains, to the resting place of the Gale dynasty. He'd even suggested to her as much.

"No, Captain. We must leave tomorrow at first sunrise without delay."

"All due respect, your Majesty..." he said, then paused. Breathed deep. Took his hat off, twirled the brim in his hands. "Leaving without the proper protection seems a bit foolish to me."

The Queen, instead of being taken aback, only nodded her head. "I understand your concern, Captain. But I trust that we are following the right course." She smiled at him. "This journey is being undertaken with the utmost secrecy. With the Emerald protected by the Grey Gale once again, Azkadellia can begin on her path to redemption."

"Your Majesty," Cain began. But she held up a white, shaking hand to silence him.

"Captain, listen to me. My dear friend Ambrose has informed me, quite at length, of your part in the demise of the Witch and the restoration of my family," she said. "Azkadellia's faith in her safety rests with you, and rightly so. If we move quickly and complete our tasks, I do not think harm should befall us."

The sound of the horses in the stable brought Cain out of his fresh memory.

_Six men. _

Growling in his throat again, he shifted on the hard ground. Only four hours of sleep if he was lucky, but it was going to be a long night.


	5. Chapter Five

Author's Note: Thank you to all my readers, reviewers, and subscribers._  
_

* * *

**Of Light**

**Chapter Five**

* * *

_- DG's Chambers -_**  
**

* * *

DG lay restlessly in her bed. Why, why did this have to be the Palace of Unrest? Such a beautiful, magical place. She had her window open; though she couldn't feel the breeze from across the room, she could hear it rustling the marsh grass outside, could see it playing in the curtains.

She thought of her mother and her sister, and of their journey into the northwest. What would she do without them while they were gone? Walk the lake with Raw, listen to Glitch stumble through sounding like he knew what he was talking about? Sit in the sun room with her father, his favorite place? Very princess-like things to do.

She knew there were lessons planned. Tutor would not relent. "You do not let the Light flow easily, DG," he had told her in his deep voice. His sad eyes bore into her; he was disappointed. "The Witch is dead, your mother restored, but your work is not done. Not until you can learn to hold and channel your Light without the slightest effort."

_Az goes to return the Emerald to its resting place, return it to its Guardian,_ DG thought. _A quest into the wilderness, just like mine. Though, less of an adventure. A royal duty, maybe, but no adventure._

No, she wasn't the slightest bit sore at being left behind. She snuggled her head deeper into her pillows, seeking rest.

After the Eclipse, she'd been glad the adventure was over. With the Resistance forces taking over the Longcoats, with word spreading like wildfire across the plains of the O.Z., the Royal Family had been moved to the safety of Central City. The Witch's Tower, an enemy fortress, was far from secure, Witchless or not.

Longcoat transport trucks had been... _acquired_ by some of Jeb's men. Three followed in succession on the road to Central City. DG had found herself being ushered into the backseat of a truck, Cain beside her and Tutor in the front with the driver. The huge, tired old man tried to keep up conversation, but fell into a kind of trance, silent and relieved it was over. Finally, over.

DG had also tried to keep up conversation. "They scattered like bugs," she'd said with a yawn. Cain had wondered if she were talking about the Longcoats, or if she was already half asleep.

"We'll get them rounded up. Your mother ordered them locked in Azkadellia's dungeons."

"Lock them up in their own prison? That sounds like justice to me." She could still recall the smell of the place, of rust and decay.

Then, she was quiet too, for a long time. Cain watched her, as he watched the taillights of the truck ahead of them in the darkness, as he watched the headlights of the truck following them. Constantly aware, he wondered when he'd feel his own sense of exhaustion. But he was still agitated from having the bullet removed from his shoulder. Raw's soothing magic could only do so much; it could not extract metal from his body. One of Jeb's camp surgeons had removed the bullet. Cain had weathered it, but it left him shaky. Coming out wasn't as bad as going in, but still hurt like hell.

DG shifted against her window. Moving her shoulders, twisting her body.

"What are you doing?"

She shot him a glare. "I can't sleep sitting up."

"Lay down, then."

She looked at him skeptically. He was a little amazed at that. Without trying, without even doing anything, he'd pissed her off. Storming the Tower, she'd had the bravery of a Resistance fighter. But now, the danger passed and her body slowing down, she was a little girl, cranky without sleep.

Cain sighed. "Here," he said. His duster was laying in his lap; he rolled it up and handed it to her. "Put that under the window, lay your head on it." He hooked his hands around her knees, and pulled her legs onto his lap. DG groaned in protest, but she did as instructed, sliding her bottom further down the bench seat. "There, comfortable?"

DG nodded sleepily. When he moved his hands away from her legs, she thought she could still feel them there. "Thanks, Tin Man."

"You're welcome, Princess."

The truck continued on in the darkness. DG's legs shook with her effort to relax. But soon, she stilled, and slept. Cain leaned his head back against the window, his body turned at an angle towards hers, her legs across his lap and her stockinged feet tucked beside him. Her sneakers lay on the floor.

Tutor had turned around in his seat then. His dark gaze caught Cain's. Cain looked away first, his eyes casting out the windscreen once again to find the taillights ahead, then the headlights behind.

* * *

_- The Stables -_

* * *

Cain woke uneasily. He could hear the first of the stable hands swishing through the marsh grass, back to work another day. Lifting his hat off his face, Cain sat up and looked around. It was still dark, though a faint greyness had begun to appear on the horizon, and the stars had begun to fade.

"Rise and shine boys," he grumbled. A stable worker meant it was near five a.m.; he wanted to be mounted and on the other side of the maze by six thirty. He and his men were to meet the Queen and the Princess Az at the front entrance of the palace within an hour.

There was no groaning or protest from his men. In minutes they were all on their feet, rolling up their sleeping bags, checking their gear. One of the men, McLauren, sat on a rock, smoking a cigarette. Shaking his head, Cain walked over.

"Just enjoying a last one," McLauren said. "I ain't gonna smoke around the Queen or the Sorc-" The young man caught himself, shook his head sheepishly. "I mean, her Highness Azkadellia."

At this, Cain glanced from man to man. Most looked nervous. Private Goodwin looked angry, zippering his pack closed almost forcefully. Cain wondered how many of them had imagined strangling Az with their own bare hands over the last fifteen annuals.

He shook the morbid thought off. She was once again a princess, heir to the throne of the O.Z., and she needed their help. "All right, over here," he said. The men dropped what they were doing to gather around him. At first, he wasn't sure where to begin. He shrugged on his service jacket, prolonging the inevitable moment.

"You know this isn't your regular royal escort," Cain began. The men watched him, waiting. The captain continued, explained everything he said had been told to him the night before, the reason the Queen had requested an audience. "We move them as fast as possible without pushing them. Hell, maybe it would be better if we did push them, but you leave it to me to set our pace. Hass, I want you scouting ahead."

Hass nodded his head. He'd listened intently to the new situation, hoping to hell that the plan wasn't going to change. The captain hadn't indicated as much. "Why didn't she order more men, if it would be so dangerous, Captain?" he asked.

Cain shook his head, grimaced. "I racked my brain over that all night. Says she wants this done quick and dirty. So that's how we do it."

The men broke apart as a group of palace servants arrived, carrying trays of food. Cain watched them as they approached. "What's this?"

"Captain, her Majesty has requested you come to the palace as soon as you have eaten."

Cain eyed the trays of hot, filling food. Bread, porridge, coffee. He nodded at his men. "We eat, and then we go."

* * *

_- DG's Chambers -_

* * *

DG awoke with a start. Someone was knocking at her door; it was still dark. Had she been dreaming? The last thing she remembered were thoughts of Cain, of their ride from the Tower after the Eclipse.

The knocking continued. "Come in," DG said with a yawn, practically rolling out of the bed onto the floor. As she straightened, her lady's maid, Esther, poked her head into the room.

"Your mother and sister depart this morning," Esther said. Her face was bright, a 'good morning' type of smile. How could anyone be so chipper on a day like today? A thought entered her mind, through the tiny back door with a nameplate of _Guilt_ on it.

_After the downfall of the Witch, wouldn't you be happy too, DG? You didn't suffer famine, the almost destruction of the O.Z. You merely swooped in, last half of the last act, to save the day. Little princess, resurrected._

Esther looked inquiringly at her mistress. "Will you take your breakfast now?"

DG shook her head. "No, I'll go see Az. Thank you Esther."

She left the room in her nightdress and bare feet. At five-thirty a.m., who would see her? Even if someone did, at least her gown was princess-y, a long Miss-Elaine-type affair, which reminded DG of Wendy Darling.

She and her sister had rooms down a shared passageway, rooms overlooking the lake. Az's room was at the end of the hall, with a double view, to help soothe her. DG knocked on the door, and after she thought she heard a muttered affirmation from her sister, she entered.

Azkadellia was already dressed in her riding clothes. Her twill riding skirt was split up the front to reveal boots and trousers underneath. It was the first time she'd seen her sister in pants, and she was impressed, but it diminished next to the practicality of it. Both Azkadellia and her mother would ride astride, they needed to move as fast as possible.

"You're still in your nightgown?" Azkadellia asked. Then she shook her head. "I want to go back to bed. Forever."

DG laughed. "No, it's your turn to go traipsing through the woods with no bathroom."

Az grimaced. She sat down carefully at the table near the window, where her breakfast lay untouched on its tray. Beside the tray was a plain wooden box, with a simple metal latch. "It's almost time to get rid of it. Then I think I can start to breathe."

DG knew in the box lay the Emerald. Azkadellia held her hand over the box; from underneath the lid shone out white light. DG watched until the light grew to blinding. Her eyes blinked closed on their own, and when she opened them, only the small latch glowed faintly. Locked by magic.

DG noticed her sister watching the box uneasily. "Everything will be okay, Az," DG said. She sat across from her sister, reached out her bare foot to push Az's booted one. "I met your escort last night, they look pretty tough." Azkadellia nodded. "And," DG continued. "Cain will be with you, so you'll barely spend any time resting." Az only nodded a second time. DG looked away, searching her brain. After a month of silence from her sister, her renewed speech had put hope back on the table. DG didn't want to lose it.

"Az, why did you request Cain? Over one of the generals?"

Azkadellia sighed. She reached up, touched her hair, piled high on her head, twisted securely for the day's long ride. "I thought it would be obvious, little sister," she said after a moment. She got up and walked to her dresser, her boots clicking on the floor. "Back at the Tower, Wyatt Cain became a thorn in my side... The Witch's side, I guess," Az said with a shrug. "You escaped from the theater in Central City, escaped from the Tower prison." She went to the window, looked out. The sky was lightening fast, turning faint orange over the mountains. "That man made it through every obstacle the Witch's army set before him. And now... I could only think of one person I would want on my side though this..."

* * *

_- The Royal Suite -_

* * *

On the other side of the palace, the Queen pulled the hood of her cloak over her hair, her hands steady. Ahamo watched his wife's calm composure.

"Four days' journey," he reassured her. "Three if the weather cooperates."

The Queen laughed shortly, under her breath. "Why should the weather cooperate? Why should anything go right?"

"Now don't think like that," he told her, his tones soft and hushed. He soothed her as he had soothed his daughters so long ago, before the Witch, before everything had changed. Ahamo took his wife into his arms, tugged her hood down again so he might feel her skin when she tucked her head into his shoulder.

"Oh, my darling," she sighed. "I look forward to our return journey. When I might be back here, in your arms." Ahamo tightened his grip on her. "I fear perhaps Azkadellia is braver than I."

"You are both strong women. I think the soldiers may have a hard time keeping up with you," he said with a laugh.

Before his wife could reply, there was a knock at the door. The couple broke apart. A young servant girl entered, curtsied, did not make eye contact with either of her rulers. "Captain Cain's party has left the stables, your Majesty, and are headed toward the palace. The Princess Azkadellia awaits in the foyer."

The Queen nodded. After replacing her hood, she took her husband's proffered arm.

_Gods give us strength and Light guide our steps._

* * *

_- The Entrance Hall -  
_

* * *

Wyatt Cain stood in the grand entry way, his hands behind his back. As the suns rose over the mountains, filling the gigantic room with pale morning light, his mind watched as seconds of precious daylight ticked away. Ambrose was sitting on a settee bookended by ferns in large clay pots. Even though his friend's knee was bouncing, his eyelids looked incredibly heavy.

Suddenly, Ambrose clambered to his feet, ungracefully landing with a little hop. Cain followed his gaze to see Az and DG descending the stairs. Az came first, DG followed behind wearing a long white nightdress. A blue dressing gown covered her shoulders, but she'd left it wide open. Cain smirked to see her feet were bare.

"Captain Cain," Azkadellia said, extending her hands as she reached the bottom of the staircase. Cain bowed his head, before taking her hands in his own.

"Your Highness," he said softly, mindful of her fragile state. She watched his eyes for a moment, then pulled her hands away. She turned to Ambrose.

"Ambrose, would you please help me mount my horse?"

Glitch raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Yes, of course, Princess." He offered her his arm, but she did not take it. Instead, she walked out of the front door, where an attendant waited in the grass with her mount. Ambrose followed, not at all put off by her coolness. Cain watched the two of them leave the foyer. Azkadellia walked steadily forward, but when Ambrose helped her onto the mounting block, she looked at him with kindness, in the dimness Cain could almost have seen her mouth the words, _"Thank you"._

He turned away when DG moved to his side.

"One minute you're giving a kid directions, the next you're a slave to the Royal family for the rest of your life," she said teasingly. He looked at her, stone-faced. DG put her hand on his arm, tried to see if she could soften his resolve. "Is this your work face?"

He coughed to suppress that crooked smile. "Somethin' like that."

There was silence between them. From above, DG could hear the sounds of her parents coming towards the front entrance. It crossed her mind that her mother might not approve of her standing in the front hall in her night clothes. In a quick decision, she buttoned the front of her robe. Cain seemed to have read her mind, for he smoothed a few stray locks of her bedhead behind her ear.

"So I'll see you when you come back," DG said quietly. Her heart was pounding. Why? Because he had touched her hair?

Cain nodded, stepping back. The Queen and Prince Consort appeared at the top of the stairs, came down quickly.

"My men are ready to leave, your Majesty," Cain said. DG glanced at him, surprised at the new level of seriousness in him. Certainly this was on-the-job Cain. She knew then she'd get no hug goodbye.

The Queen nodded. She turned to her daughter, embraced her. She seemed not to notice Azkadellia's robe on DG's shoulders, hastily buttoned. "My angel," she whispered in her daughter's ear. "Do not give your poor tutor too much trouble."

DG laughed, thinking this an odd request. "Yes, Mother. I'll see you soon."

The Queen nodded. "Captain, we will be ready to leave shortly." She allowed Ahamo to lead her out the front doors, her white mare waiting, ready to be mounted. Both Cain and DG watched after her parents before he turned back to her. He put his hat on his head, adjusted it.

"I'll see you in a few days," he said. He watched her. How could her blue eyes seem so wide? She looked so vulnerable, but he knew that she was far from it. She was nodding at him, but her mouth was caught in a frown. "And don't look so miserable." His eyes were on her mouth.

DG closed her eyes, pursed her lips, chewed them from the inside. She felt his hand on her shoulder, but when she opened her eyes again, he'd turned and was walking out of the doors. From the dim light of the foyer, she watched him mount his horse from the ground, call out an order to his men. Ahamo watched from the steps as his wife and daughter rode away, in the company and under the protection of armed soldiers.

Ambrose came to join DG in the ever lightening entryway. He'd caught the way DG had stared at Cain's back as he walked away without turning around. Watched now as her mouth stood slightly ajar as she watched the figures shrinking into the distance towards the maze.

"It's too early to look at someone like that," he said as he stopped beside her. When she looked at him, he was watching her with a smug, knowing look, which quickly turned into a full, Glitchy grin. He gestured his chin towards the stairs. "You should go back to bed."


	6. Chapter Six

**Author's Note**: Thank you to all my readers, reviewers, and subscribers._  
_

* * *

**Of Light**

**Chapter Six  
**

* * *

_- Finaqua -**  
**_

* * *

_She was falling. Sliding, down, down. Her fingers clawed at the walls of the tunnel, but there was nothing to grab. She bumped and rolled. Screaming, screaming. The friction of dirt and rocks burned her skin as she slid, down, down. And then out of nowhere, the floor leveled and again she rolled. Her body connected with a table, sending the contents flying. Metal objects struck the walls of the underground room, yelping their echoes._

_It was dark. Someone was shouting. She managed to get herself to her hands and knees when a light flared, and she was being hauled to her feet. The shouts came from behind her, beside her. Right in her ear. Strong hands gripped her arms. Rough hands, it felt like the scraping of the tunnel on her back, that touch on her arms. _

_Half carried, half dragged, lights passed above her head. Taken down one passageway and then the next, she was without direction. Lost. She tried to gain her footing, to use her own feet to walk wherever they were taking her, but their pace was too quick, her legs sore from jarring against the floor coming out of the tunnel. She couldn't speak, her throat was full of dust._

_A sudden stop at a door. It was opened before her, and she was thrown to the floor. Before her was a desk. Again, she got to her hands and knees. Then her feet. She struggled to stand straight. The light was bright, sharpening her senses. Terror filled her; where had she fallen?_

_A huge man stood behind the desk, watching her. She stared into his stark black eyes; her fear made her willful. She tried to remember before the tunnel, but all she could remember was the never-ending forest, and then the ground falling out from underneath her feet._

"_And who is this?" he asked. She wondered if he meant her to speak. He put something down on the desk, slowly walked around to where she stood. Her gaze faltered as he approached, the intensity of his black eyes only heightened her fear. A glimmer caught her eye. What he had placed on the desk, a small emerald which seemed to glow from within._

_The man towered over her, her eyes met his chest. He grabbed her chin, forced her eyes upward. His hands were rough, the same as the hands from before. Cold, course, like the surface of a stone._

"_I said, who is this?"_

_She set her jaw. "My name is Dorothy."_

DG's eyes burst open, she sharply inhaled. The suns' light bore into her room, invasive. She pushed herself up on her arms, sat up. "What the hell was that?" She rubbed her eyes furiously.

Ahamo was ambling down the hall at a slow pace. In one hand he carried a cup of coffee, half finished; in the other, he held a stack of papers, the top of which he read as he walked. He didn't see his daughter rush out of her room. It was the pounding of her footsteps and the breeze she created as she ran by him that caught his attention.

"DG?" he called after her, but she didn't stop. He turned, followed her. As he came down the stairs, he saw a maid hurry out of the finished parlour. She glanced behind her, almost worriedly, as she walked across the hall. Ahamo stuck his head into the parlour.

DG was running her fingers over the massive bookshelf that took up most of the east wall. She tapped the books impatiently, muttering to herself.

"Looking for something?" he asked her. DG turned to him, noticing him for the first time. She smiled, and nodded, then went back to her diligent search. Ahamo stepped fully into the room, put his papers down on a side table. "You slept quite a while. Tutor wants to continue your lessons this afternoon in the library, since you slept through your morning one." He was smiling, though she didn't turn to him to see.

"What time is it?" she asked him absently.

"Nearly eleven o'clock."

She stopped on a book, tapped the spine three times before pulling it out. She opened the cover, scanned the title page. Nodded. She proceeded to pull out the next book, and the next, piling them one on top of the other until she had five.

Ahamo watched her in amazement. "Planning on doing some reading while your mother is away?"

DG turned to him again, and nodded. "The Gale dynasty. I'm a little interested, you know, since that's where Mother and Az are going." She laughed; a little nervously, it sounded to his ears.

"Are you all right?"

"Yeah," she said. "Um, I think I will go put these in my room, and then I'll go find Tutor."

DG left her father standing in the parlor, hurried across the hall and up the stairs. She was a little out of breath by the time she dumped the books onto her bed, but her heart and breathing stopped racing by the time she'd brushed out her hair, put on a fresh dress. It was simple, light, a soft blue color. She really didn't mind the dresses that weren't constricting, that didn't require a corset underneath. The hem fell to her knees, the fabric whispering against her legs.

The dream was on her mind as she left her room to find her magic teacher. She'd dreamed falling down that tunnel, felt the impact of the hard floor when she landed. Her arms had been grabbed... it had been herself, DG, in that dream, hadn't it? But the name and voice that escaped her lips... "My name is Dorothy." It repeated over and over in her head. A young girl's voice, not her own... but one she had heard before.

* * *

_- The Northwestern Road -_

* * *

At midday, Cain ordered them to stop. They were far from the main road, the one Cain and his men had traveled the day before. He helped the Queen down from her horse, and then did the same for Azkadellia. Pvt. McLauren appeared to take the reins of both beasts, to lead them down through the trees to where a swift current ran along muddy banks.

In her hands, the princess carried a small wooden box. Cain had watched her remove it from the saddle bag before McLauren had led her mount away. He said nothing, knowing full well what was in the small chest she held onto so tightly. The tiny little gem that had been the source of so much misery for the people of the O.Z. She had killed hundreds to get it, thousands of lives destroyed, whole towns burned to the ground.

_And now we return it, pretend like it never happened._

He smirked, shook his head, a little disbelieving his own mind had come up with those words.

Cain turned when the Queen approached him. "How is our progress, Captain?" she asked. To his relief, she was smiling.

"I'd like to pick up the pace. The closer we get to the mountains today, the earlier we get there tomorrow. And that means the sooner we get there, the sooner we can leave."

The Queen nodded her agreement. "I think moving faster would be the best idea," she said. With the wind that blew through the trees around them, he had to strain his ears to catch her breathy sighs of speech, even as close to her as he was.

There wasn't much to be had for lunch, and they drank from their canteens instead of the muddy stream. Cain had no doubt they would find a lake to camp by for the night. But he wanted to press on. Six hours into their journey, he had seen no signs of trouble. No disturbances in the countryside. But Wyatt Cain refused, as he always refused, to let his guard down.

"You keep your eyes peeled," he told McLauren and Burrows. Both of the young men were assigned to ride behind the two women. "There are no people out this way at all. We'll be able to see if anyone has made camp, disturbed the brush." Hass, whom Cain sent to scout ahead, said he found no tracks, nor signs of movement.

"This road has not been used for a long time, Captain," he'd said when he reported to Cain during their break from riding.

Cain looked behind them at the road winding off into the trees, road already traveled. He wondered if indeed they were in danger, if their enemies would even use the road. _You're getting paranoid_, he told himself. But still... he unbuttoned his holster.

"All right, let's mount up and get a move on," he called to his group. He watched Azkadellia approach her horse, place the wooden box carefully back into the saddle bag. She looked around and caught him watching her. She straightened her spine, returned his gaze defiantly; with her jaw set and her dark eyes blazing, she still looked authoritative, regal. Almost frightening. He bowed his head and looked away. He didn't mount his own horse until Abbott, the tallest of the six men, had helped both women into their saddles.

Cain watched Hass ride ahead. Cain rode beside the princess, not a word spoken by the entire party as hooves pounded against the packed dirt road. Azkadellia stared straight ahead, spurred her horse to keep up with Cain's. She did not look at the escort she had requested personally, the man she had said was the only one she'd have felt safe with. Now, in the forest, watching left and right for signs of ambush, Cain could understand her motives.

She was too quiet, too cold in her stony silence. Cain felt a sudden longing for DG. Even in darkness and danger, the right company could make the journey a little easier.

"Captain!"

Hass was riding back. Cain urged his horse faster, left the women and their company behind.

"What is it?"

"A gully. About ten meters across."

"Full of water?"

Hass shook his head. "No, Captain. There is an old bridge, but I think it would be best if we all walked our horses across."

Cain sighed. Small, time-consuming obstacles. His eyes scanned the trees, down the road and around a bend, the direction from which Hass had come. Less than five minutes down the road, the ditch cut across the landscape, dead leaves and fallen trees littering the bottom. If a stream had run through there, it had dried up a long time. The bridge Hass had spoken of was made of logs, bound together and secured in the ground.

Cain helped Az off her horse so Abbott could walk it across. When Cain offered her a hand to help her across the bridge, she looked at his outstretched palm and then at his face.

"I am perfectly capable, Captain. Thank you," she said, not unkindly. Cain nodded and retracted his hand. He followed behind her across the little bridge.

"Is there any sign of Longcoats yet, Captain?" she asked him on the other side as they waited for her mother to cross, followed closely by the two remaining soldiers.

Cain shook his head. "Out this far, I doubt we'd have any worry of Longcoats, Princess."

Azkadellia turned her head to look up at him. His eyes were ridiculously blue, like her sister's. But while DG's eyes were vast and quiet, Cain's were cool, alert. "Captain, Ambrose had advised me that the Army of Resistance only holds under four hundred Longcoats in prison."

Cain nodded his head. "The sounds about right, though I'm not sure of the exact numbers," he said.

"Mr. Cain, the Witch's Longcoat army numbered in the thousands. Over twenty six hundred soldiers."

Cain had had this conversation before with his son. Jeb and his infiltration group tracked Longcoats hidden in Central City, perhaps even as they spoke. The Queen's military advisers hounded her day and night to launch an offensive against the remaining Longcoat army, but continually she desisted. "My people have had enough of war," was her only reply.

Now, he held out an arm for Az to steady herself on as she hooked her boot into her stirrup from the ground, held her waist as she swung herself up by the pommel. He nodded his head at her as she looked down at him from her mount. He turned, seeking out his own horse.

Azkadellia unsettled him. Put him on edge. He mounted his horse, motioned for the others to follow. Their quick canter soon negated the option of conversation. He watched Az out of the corner of his eye; she stared straight ahead. Perhaps she was scared. The Longcoats presented a very small problem next to this new, veiled threat. An old grudge from before her days, her mother's days, her grandmother's. Cain was scanning the trees far ahead; though it was never too early to be cautious, they would meet trouble in the mountains, if they met it at all.

* * *

_- Finaqua -_

* * *

"Open the window."

The sash shot upwards with a bang.

"Close the doors."

The doors swung closed, evenly.

"Light a fire in the fireplace."

Then... "DG, light a fire in the fireplace."

She cracked one eye open and turned towards the mantel. Wood lay ready in the firebox, uncombusted. She glared at it, focused her concentration and her energy. Nothing happened.

Tutor chuckled. "I figured that one might stump you. Creating, DG, is vastly different from physical manipulation."

DG turned to him. "Well then, how do I create?"

"Master Ambrose told me of the light you summoned last night. Think back to what you did then, and apply it to what you're trying to do now," Tutor said. His steady, deep voice was encouraging.

DG screwed her eyes closed again. Concentrated on the image of the mantel, the wood stacked neatly behind the grate. Nothing happened. _This is ridiculous!_ She focused harder, trying to imagine clearly, and then she felt it, like a crackle in her bones, in the tips of her fingers.

She opened her eyes.

Fire seemed to sprout from the very insides of the logs. Flames jumped high, expanded as if they'd been doused with gasoline. Tutor laughed. "Gods, DG! Well done!" DG smiled, looked down at her hands in amazement. She'd felt the power, right within her body. The Light, the magic was a part of her. And she'd never known before.

"Magic is strange," she said, still studying her hands intently.

"You will understand soon enough," Tutor said. "Your magic rests within you, waiting for you to but tap your own resources. The more you uncover, the easier it will become."

DG nodded as if she understood, but honestly... she still found it hard to swallow. Seeing is believing did not always apply.

"It's nearly three," Tutor said, glancing at the wall clock. They were in what would become Ambrose's study; palace workers had chased them out of the library. The banging of hammers, the movement of maids in and out of the room, had distracted DG, whose attention span for her lesson was weak at best. In Tutor's frustration, he'd moved them to a smaller room, out of the way.

DG ran from the room, less than demurely, after a harried goodbye and thank-you to her teacher. She didn't see him shaking his head in amusement at her. The sun room had doors opening out onto the back patio, and in that direction she raced, to Raw who waited for her.

"DG should not run through palace," Raw reprimanded calmly as she dropped into a chair beside him. He looked incredibly out of place sitting in an elaborate wrought-iron patio chair.

"Shall we walk?" DG asked him. Raw nodded. She was on her feet and hauling him to his the next second; they walked down the patio steps, around the house, towards the lake.

Raw chuckled. "DG is full of energy today."

DG nodded, and laughed. "I think I'm just a little buzzed off my magic lesson. Lit a fire! Without matches! Bet that little weirdo brother of Becky St. Clair's wishes he could do that."

"Yes, Raw felt surge of magic while he waited for you," he said... and stopped. DG's mood had immediately plummeted, and he knew it was because of a memory, of her life left behind. It happened often, too often. She was sad, homesick. Missed her Nurturers.

"DG thinks of friend left behind?" he asked, prompting. Sometimes, she talked with a little encouragement. Other times, held it in, reminded the Viewer of the Tin Man, the same stoic resolve to just barrel forward.

"Oh, she wasn't my friend," DG said. "Well, she was when I was little, their farm nearer to ours than others, she was the only other little girl around. But that creepy brother of hers, like a monster in a kid costume." DG sighed. "I hadn't talked to her since graduation, she moved away to college. Mom and Pop, though... encouraged me to stay home. Drive the truck to Hays twice a week for night classes."

Then she laughed. Sharply. "I wonder why," she said softly, shaking her head. "I wonder _why._"

She was angry now, bitter. Raw was confused by the constant shifting of her emotions. Little time of his life had been spent around humans before this young girl rescued him from a certain, painful death. He took her hand, trying not to outwardly wince at the tempest raging. She was _angry._

"Follow Raw," he said, sensibly, and began to pull her back towards the house. "DG need rest."

Twenty minutes later, she was alone in her room. Raw had offered to sit outside in the sitting room, but DG declined. Thanked him for his help and concern, but sent him on his way. Now she was facing the pile of books on her bed. Books about the Gale dynasty. Her anger at her past dissipated as she eyed a different kind of past. Her _real_ past.

_Dorothy,_ she thought. _I want to know about Dorothy._

She stacked the books in order on her nightstand, and crawled on top of the bed. Sitting cross-legged and covered with a blanket, she picked up the first volume and cracked it open at the beginning. She skipped through a very long-winded introduction. Finally, a good way in, a chapter entitled '_Mysterious Arrival_'.

DG furrowed her brow as she read. No where did it refer to Dorothy as a 'slipper', as someone from another world. The further she read, the more confused she became.

_From out of nowhere, a strange girl appeared at the gates of the Shining City. She screamed, hysterical, begging to be released from her pain. But no one would touch her. The girl bled magic from her hands, essence which dripped on the ground and burned holes where it fell. _


	7. Chapter Seven

**Author's Note**: Thank you to all my readers, reviewers, and subscribers.

* * *

**Of Light**

**Chapter Seven**

* * *

_- The Northwestern Road -_ **  
**

* * *

Night was falling fast. They had slowed their horses to a walk. Cain waited for Hass to report back that he had found a suitable place to make camp. Out in this wilderness where no one but wild things lived, he didn't want to camp near the road. The countryside was on a gradual incline; they had reached the foothills of the great mountains to the Northwest.

Finally, Cain heard the pounding of hooves, and in the growing twilight saw Hass riding quickly towards them. Cain spurred his horse forward, away from Azkadellia's side, to meet the corporal. "What have you found?" Cain asked. With the darkness thickening, he wanted to make camp as soon as possible.

"Five minutes ride or so from here is a rock shelter. Not large enough to pitch even one tent inside, but I checked it out and it's secure. It will provide protection from the wind. You might post a guard above," Hass reported. Cain nodded.

"Lead the way," he said. "We'll follow."

He rode back to the Queen. "Your Majesty, Corporal Hass has found a spot to make camp. I'd like it if we could hurry."

The Queen nodded. She was exhausted, but tried not to show her strain to the soldiers surrounding her. "Of course, Captain Cain." She followed behind the captain, her daughter riding beside her. In the dimness, she could not see her daughter's face. She focused herself back on the ride; somehow, knowing the day of travelling was almost over, the last few minutes were almost unbearable. The pain in her back and her legs crept up, burning hotter. Almost there.

To have a fire built, the tents pitched, and the horses cared for took close to an hour. Cain had found himself grateful his royal charges travelled light. The night was black and the forest beyond the fire indiscernible. The eight companions were alone in their little island of firelight, the world outside may not have even existed.

They'd put almost eighty miles between them and Finaqua that day. A little over halfway there. They would arrive by late afternoon tomorrow, he hoped. _Hoped_. Soon they would lose the road, the cover of the woods.

"Two guards will be on watch at all times tonight," Cain explained to the Queen. "One above, and one below." He nodded towards where Pvt. Burrows sat perched atop the rock shelter, outside of which the tents had been raised. "I want to be ready to leave before first light tomorrow."

"My daughter and I will be ready to go, Captain." Cain nodded at her. Her quiet, wispy voice made him nervous. She seemed ready to turn into a puff of smoke and blow away on the breeze. _ I must be getting tired,_ he told himself. But watching this woman, he wondered where DG had come from, gotten that irrepressible, frustrating spirit.

_Maybe the Other Side makes all the difference. _

He tried to imagine DG more like her mother, willowy, pale. Breathy sighs forming words instead of a strong, steady voice that thought it was always right. It was hard, but it near put a smile on his face.

He shook his head. J_ust stop that right now, Wyatt._

The Queen was rising to her feet. He stood, respectfully.

"I think I will go to bed, Captain. Goodnight, gentleman." She nodded at the other men, who had jumped to their feet. Pvt. Abbott hopped forward, held the tent flap open for her, and then let it fall once again. Cain shook his head in dismay; his men fell all over themselves to help the Queen, but left Azkadellia to him. Princess-sitting; it sounded easy, but Cain knew that the phrase '_misconception'_ didn't quite cover it. This fact alone kept him on edge, even though Az wasn't half the trouble her sister was.

Azkadellia soon went to bed as well. When Cain rose as she did, she nodded at him, but didn't smile. The corners of her mouth twitched, he noticed, and the line of her mouth stretched a little farther. He had no words of comfort for her, not in the company of these men. He helped her into the tent, said goodnight, but was only greeted with silence.

Hours later, Cain still sat feeding the fire. Hass stretched out on the ground beside him, throwing twigs into the flames. Two of their company slept, while two guarded, one sitting in the darkness just beyond the firelight.

"We saw no signs today of trouble," Hass offered.

"No, no trouble," Cain said, staring into the flames. The heat he felt was comforting; years in his tin suit had left him appreciative of so many little things. The snap and pop of logs devoured by flames was one of them, reminding him of taking Jeb fishing as a boy. Of Adora, entangled naked with him before the hearth, making love in front of the fire, before they'd had a child.

"Up in the mountains we'll have to be more vigilant," Hass continued. "There will be too many places for anyone to hide, too easy to attack."

Cain nodded, and looked at his young companion. The man couldn't have seen much service before the Tower, but he knew what he needed to know, and Cain was impressed with the young corporal's insights. But he knew now the man across from him was fishing to start a conversation, perhaps to speak his troubled mind. Cain did not deter him, but did not offer anything up.

Finally... "Do you really think they're after the princess?"

"I couldn't tell you."

"I thought they had demobilized. A long, long time ago. I thought they were forgotten."

"I've learned in the past couple of months to stop thinking of things as forgotten," was all Cain said.

"Why resurface now, after being silent for so long? And why go after Azkadellia?"

Cain held his tongue.

"And another thing," Hass said. He lowered his voice, looked around suspiciously, as if someone might come leaping out of the bushes at any moment. He looked back to Cain. "To leave the palace at Finaqua unguarded. If they are after the Princess Azkadellia, wouldn't her sister be in as much danger?"

Cain shook his head. "DG is perfectly safe."

Hass was a little curious at the captain's informal address of the princess. Just the like rest of them, Cain held himself strictly in check around these significant women. This, however, did not dissuade him from pushing forward. "You think they won't attack Finaqua, just as the Queen said they threaten us now?"

Cain looked hard into the young man's eyes, his tone ringing finality. "DG is in _no_ danger."

Hass nodded, looked around nervously once again. "I'll turn in, Captain," he said. "McLauren will wake me at five for my patrol." Cain watched the young man go to his tent, offering no goodnight. He knew he should follow suit, but the fire held him. _Demobilized_, Cain thought.

The country had embraced their queen, the beautiful, selfless woman with the lavender eyes. Rejoiced and raised her to her throne without remark. To be summoned to her office to find her pacing and fretful was a surprise.

Cain got up from the fire, went to his tent. His mind stayed back in the Queen's audience chamber.

"_Nothing_ must happen to Azkadellia," the Queen had said, her voice as firm as he had ever heard it. It echoed in his head now. "She knows she is in danger from the Longcoats. We _cannot_ allow her to find these insurgents target her as well. We move with the utmost secrecy and caution."

"Is hiding these facts from Azkadellia wise?"

"Captain," the Queen had said. Her lavender eyes bore into him. "My daughter is unstable. With the Emerald in her possession, it draws on her power, _feeds on her._ You will not have her magic to help you on this journey, not in any significant amount."

"I hadn't expected it. My men and I are more than capable of handling any trouble that finds us."

"With the Emerald back under its Guardian, Azkadellia's magic will be at its full strength. And we will have little to fear on the return journey."

Cain had shaken his head. His only knowledge of magic had come from watching DG, and her magic was temperamental at best. It seemed foolish to become so complacent as to rely on such frivolous means of protection. He had always held his faith in his own force of will... and his shooting arm.

The Queen's gaze then, over the empty desk, had reminded him of the Mystic Man; the promise that had been like blood from a stone. It made him uncomfortable, as sadness often did, thinking about the poor old man. He'd been green when he was first assigned to the Mystic Man. Now, weathered and tired, here he was, guarding those who could not guard themselves. Cain stared up at the canvas of the tent in the semi-darkness.

The Queen's voice swirled in his mind, louder than she seemed in life. "Azkadellia must _not_ know of the Outlanders. I cannot stress this point enough."

"You have, Majesty," Cain said, trying to be a comfort but wondering if could be. "I will have to inform my men, however."

"Yes," she said, nodding. "Yes. They must be informed."

Cain turned restlessly from one side to another on his sleeping roll. Thoughts of DG pushed, somewhat inappropriately he thought, into his head. He covered his eyes with one hand, blocking out the dim light from the fire, still burning bright outside the tent. Abbott probably fed it now, vigilance bleeding into boredom as the night wore on.

_Sleep, Wyatt,_ he told himself. _You're going to need it._

* * *

_- Finaqua -_

* * *

Darkness had fallen over the palace at Finaqua. Dinner had been cleared away, and those that remained of the household adjourned to the parlour. Raw sat quietly by the window, introspective. Glitch had returned to perusing the bookshelf, trying to reawaken his knowledge. DG was pestering her father.

"It was 1972, the year I crossed over," Ahamo said. In his hand he held a glass of wine, which he was watching intently.

"You getting curious was the bottom of that glass looks like?" DG asked teasingly. He had been musing at length for quite a while, at her insistence. First about her childhood, then his time with her mother before the marriage, the children, and now he moved backwards to his time on the Other Side. A life in reverse.

"Nixon was recalling the last of the troops from Vietnam," he continued. "I was sixteen that year, too young for the draft, too young for the war. Thought flying my Pop's hot air balloon as a demonstration at the fair was a good idea." Ahamo paused, shook his head at himself, smiling. "Best idea I ever had."

DG laughed. Ahamo drained the last of his wine, began to hum a little to himself. Her heart swelled and tears entered her eyes as she recognized the tune.

_Bye, bye Miss American Pie..._

She began to sing soft words, accompanying his impromptu memory. When he stopped humming, she kept singing, until she fumbled on the words, and had to stop. Her father was beaming at her. He stood, and kissed the top of her head. "I'll go to bed, I think." DG watched him leave.

In the doorway, he stopped, and turned back to his daughter. "Did they elect Nixon for a second term?"

DG laughed. "Yeah they did. Ask me tomorrow about Nixon's 'second term', Dad. Go to bed."

Ahamo smiled at her, disappeared. She could hear him singing to himself faintly "I met a girl who sang the blues, and I asked her..." but his voice faded as the massive palace swallowed him whole. She realized that paying attention in her American History class was going to end up being rewarding. She shook her head, laughing. _And they say you never use what you learn in school._

Glitch flopped down on the sofa beside her. "Youuu," he said, dragging it out, "were quiet at dinner."

"And you," she said, nudging him a little with her elbow so he'd move over, "went off topic during dinner at least three times."

He shrugged. "Still glitching a lot. It's hard to keep my thoughts in line. Unruly bastards."

She laughed. She noticed her second companion, her heartfelt guardian, sitting across the room, watching out the window. What could he see? It was black outside. "Raw, come sit with us."

The Viewer shook his head. "No, Raw will go to bed." He looked troubled, upset. "DG rest well," he said. He nodded at Glitch, left the room. DG watched after him, worriedly.

"He looks upset."

Glitch watched the doorway through which Raw had departed. "I don't know," he said slowly. "Lots of things could be upsetting him. There are lots of people in this palace, and lots of things going on. He might be picking up on something."

A second later, he was standing. Moving over to the desk, shuffling through a drawer. He pulled out a thick pad of paper and an expensive looking fountain pen. He sat down in the chair at the desk, his back upright. DG knew in that second that she'd lost him once again.

"I'm going to my room now," she told him. She didn't want to sit in the quiet parlour, listening to his frenetic scribbling.

He turned to her, then stood. Gave a stiff, proper bow. "Goodnight, your Highness."

She rolled her eyes at him. "G'night, Glitch."

As she walked out of the parlour, he called after her. "My name isn't Glitch!"

Walking up the stairs, she ran into two maids, who also showed her too much respect. She nodded, cocking the necessary half-smiles. Back in the sitting chamber outside her bedroom, she held the door at her back, leaned her head against the heavy wood. She closed her eyes, breathing deeply. Moments like this, when it was all too much, caused an almost panic. Tears threatened to fall for no reason at all.

Regaining her composure, she shook her head. "Get a hold of yourself, DG."

When she opened her eyes, the first thing she saw were the Gale books.

She hadn't made it very far into the first one. What she had read had disturbed her. Terrified her, when she coupled it with the dream she'd had. The dream... was it just that? Something her mind had concocted, perhaps because of her agitation after saying goodbye to her mother... to Cain?

_It was just a dream_.

No... she couldn't convince herself of that. In the O.Z., where magic was pervasive, a part of her life. Where memories were real, pliable things. Her own mother had invaded her head to warn her. Could this be the same thing?

_You can't be suspicious of every dream you have for the rest of your life, girl._

She wanted to pick up another book, but she didn't want to read anymore. Instead, she crawled into her bed, grumbled in her head about the maids. Every morning she made her bed, habits from an old life; every night when she crawled in, she found it remade, crisp sheets tightly tucked. Military tight. She kicked her legs around under the sheets for a few moments before hugging her pillow, settling down. She willed her brain not to dream of Dorothy, to prove that it _had_ been just a dream. She sent her thoughts out wandering... and they landed on Wyatt Cain.

_Well, that's not going to help me sleep._

She tried to banish him. But once in her mind, he wouldn't leave easily. She couldn't cajole imaginary Cain as easily as the flesh and blood man. She set herself to planning the menial things they would find to do during his stay. It excited her, thinking of the five of them back together again, no stress and no worries. Maybe they would be able to laugh.

* * *

_- DG's Chambers -_

* * *

_They were slavers. _

_She was thrown into a cell, small and dark and cold. She heard them outside the door, dragging people down the passageway, people who cried in pain and exhaustion. She waited for them to come for her, but no one did. She shared her cell with a girl. When they opened the door and light poured in, she saw the haggard creature was older than she. Not too much older, but could she really guess? The girl said she didn't know how long she'd been there, could barely remember her own name._

"_They're Outlanders," the girl had whispered in fear once. Guards would bang on the door if they heard them talking. But she encouraged her cell-mate, yearning for companionship. Her memories were still a blur, but she was certain that somewhere out there, someone missed her._

"_What do they want us for? Where do they take you?"_

"_To their mines. They mine the stones here. My father said..." The girl faltered then, the memory choking her. She crawled over to the girl, reached a hand out until she felt a body, the girl's shoulder. She gripped her companion tight. Human contact was a blessed thing._

"_Your father said?" she prompted._

"_He said … said they are a part of the mountains."_

_The door was wrenched open. The sudden light from the passage blinded her. She shielded her eyes with her hand. A guard came for her, hauled her to her feet. "You," he said. His skin scraped against hers painfully. It registered somewhere, vaguely. A part of the mountain. "Roke wants you."_

_She tried to remember the lefts and rights as she was led away, but it was no use. The labyrinthine complex dizzied her. But, suddenly she recognized this place. This door being opened. They didn't throw her to the floor; she was shown a chair._

_The same man stood behind the desk, and she realized that he wasn't a _man, _whatever he was, this 'Outlander'. The same emerald sat on his desk, only now in a small box, embedded in cloth so soft it looked out of place in the bleak, hopeless room. _ Courage_, she told herself. _ Have courage._ Somewhere from her foggy memory flashed an image of a hook-nosed spinster, and her heart blossomed with defiance. Clenching her jaw, she challenged him._

"_You," he said. He chuckled; the sound seemed to grate in his throat. "You are a brave little girl."_

"_I'm not a little girl," she countered, trying not to sound petulant, but firm and cold, like him._

"_But you are," he said. He was amused. "And you're the first one to look me in the eyes."_

DG awoke slowly. Her limbs were heavy. When she opened her eyes, she knew it was still very late. But it didn't matter. Urging her body out of bed, her unsteady, sleepy steps carried her out of her room. Down a twist of well-lit hallways that hurt her eyes; by the time she reached her destination, she could see a little better.

She banged on the door. Moments later, it swung open.

"Who are the Outlanders?" she demanded.

Ambrose's expression of surprise at seeing her quickly dropped. His eyes skipped nervously before he would meet her gaze. He grabbed her by the arm and pulled her into his room.

"Why do you want to know about the Outlanders?"

DG tried to tell him about her dream, but it was slipping away, wisps of smoke disappearing. Ambrose eyed her suspiciously. "You had a dream about Dorothy Gale? _The_ Dorothy Gale?"

"Yes, Glitch." She left out the part about dreaming she _was_ Dorothy. "Who are these Outlanders?"

"Were," he corrected. "Who _were_ the Outlanders."

She waited. And waited. "Well?" she asked impatiently.

Ambrose had moved to the window. It took him another moment to speak; she could see him struggling with the words. Finally... "They were miners... and mercenaries. Mountain people. They were high in the favor of the last King of the O.Z., Pastor, before he died... let's just say he would have given the Sorceress good competition in cruelty."

He sent her back to bed, stammering. She always put up a fight, with everything she was asked. Part of him found it infuriating, the other part was always amused. But when he was alone, he went back to the window. Stared out in the direction of the maze, unable to see it in the darkness.

_They are in greater danger than she anticipated,_ he thought, thinking of the Queen and all her careful planning. _If DG is having dreams about Dorothy, about the Outlanders, we might all be in danger._


	8. Chapter Eight

**Author's Note**: Thank you to all my readers, reviewers, and subscribers. A special thank you to Bookworm 37 and KLCTheBookWorm for keeping me on the Tin Man straight and narrow.

* * *

**Of Light**_  
_

**Chapter Eight**

* * *

_- The Northwestern Road -**  
**_

* * *

It was raining when he was awoken near five. Wyatt Cain had barely slept, and when he did, his dreams had taken him back to Finaqua. He chased her through the maze; every corner he turned, he'd catch her white nightgown slipping around the next bend. She laughed, teased him. _Hurry, or you'll never catch me, _she'd taunted. _Hurry, Cain. _He'd almost reached her, outstretched his arm to touch her, and – "Captain," a voice had called.

Now he stood near the camp, watching the woods surrounding them while the rest of the party readied themselves to leave. Azkadellia, looking unrested, walked by him to her horse, her arms laden with the few things she'd brought with her. He averted his gaze from scanning the trees to watch her put her things into the saddlebags; a small drawstring bag, a book, and the wooden chest containing their precious cargo.

Water dripped from the brim of his hat. He turned up the collar of his service coat, walked slowly to the Princess.

"This rain will slow us down a bit," he told her. She turned to him, her dark eyes saying nothing.

"We will ride until we reach our destination, Captain," she said. He was surprised at the finality of her tone. "The Emerald will leave my possession tonight if I have to walk knee-deep through mud."

Cain sent Hass ahead, and ordered the party to move out. Riding through the rain had never been something he had willingly chosen to do. He urged the horses as fast as they could go without tiring them too quickly, but soon the road began to narrow, the trees closing in. They were forced to ride two abreast, and Cain remained by Azkadellia's side.

While her mother had covered her head with her riding cloak, Azkadellia had left her hood down, and now her hair was soaked. It hung, curly and ragged, down her back, bouncing and whipping with the motion of her ride.

On and on they rode. The trees began to thin.

They had slowed their horses to a walk; Cain was unwilling to stop and rest. The rain was falling heavier. Cain thought, absently, that Hass would be due back at any moment, probably with news about the edge of the forest and the terrain beyond, when suddenly, the Queen's horse reared, nearly unseating her. Cain turned sharply in his saddle, his hand going immediately to his holster.

Burrows was off his horse, grabbing for the bridle of the Queen's mount, trying to steady the frightened creature. The Queen gripped tightly to the reins, holding herself in the saddle. Cain could see her lips moving; she was whispering to the animal, trying to calm it.

"Captain, I see no one," Azkadellia said. She'd stopped, and she sounded frightened.

Cain scanned the trees. His horse stepped nervously sideways. A series of low rumbles, then louder pops broke the silence around them. Cain called out an order to his men, but it was lost as the ground fell out from underneath of them, and they were falling.

* * *

_- Finaqua -_

* * *

DG's morning magic lesson was an epic failure. The rain on the window cut into her concentration. Tutor grew frustrated.

"You need to focus, DG, focus!"

"I know," she snapped back at him. "That's all you ever say. Focus! I've got an idea for a magic trick! But I need a saw, and a volunteer from the audience." Her blue eyes twinkled mischievously in the old man's direction.

Tutor wasn't amused. He looked down at the broken mirror on the table, three shards of glass. "Reassemble the mirror, DG. Use your magic to bind it back together."

DG closed her eyes, but she was impatient. Two hours, he'd had her levitating books, summoning her excited little ball of light, banishing it again. That was his word, banishing. In her mind, she'd only put it away for later. But this broken mirror was presenting yet another challenge.

"DG!"

At that moment, her fingers didn't tingle, but burned with electricity. A flash of lightning coursed through her mind and her eyes flew open to glare at her teacher. But his eyes were wide; she looked down at the table. With a small pop, the shards had turned to dust, and now lay disintegrated on the table. Her jaw dropped.

Tutor closed his eyes, shook his head. "That will be enough for today, DG. Please, go study your books. We'll try again this afternoon."

But when DG left the library, instead of going to her room to study, she went to find Raw. Knocking on the door of his room was answered by only silence. She called out his name, but no voice came from within. She growled to herself, not understanding why she was so upset; she wanted his gentle presence.

She was wandering the third floor hallway, staring out of windows that looked away from the lake. Rain depressed her, and she wasn't used to being dispirited, wasn't used to walking without purpose. Life inside this palace was smothering her; days filled with reading, with walking, with visiting. She wanted something to keep her hands busy, but she was chased from the kitchen, chased from the garage.

It was almost two in the afternoon before the idea crossed her mind to join her father in his workshop in the woods. Her mother had lectured her time and time again not to leave the palace without an escort, but she felt defiant. Angry at the chains that hung from every inch of the palace, animate, reaching for her wrists.

_I need to get out of here._

She went to her room to change from her dress into a pair of slacks, pulled her cloak from its peg inside her wardrobe. She rummaged deep inside to find her sneakers, hidden from the purge of maids and mothers. Weeks she'd spent exploring the palace, to know all the quiet back ways the servants used to get around. She hurried out the kitchen door, not at all enjoying the stir she caused amongst the staff, and around the house. The rain was falling hard, and she pulled up her hood, wrapped the cloak around herself. She was going to petition her mother for a coat or two, with sleeves and buttons.

DG walked the perimeter of the maze, heading towards the woods. She walked slowly as her memories revealed the way. She hadn't actually walked to her father's workshop since their return to the lakeside palace, but she knew, instinctively, it's where he would be.

Something black swooped down from above. She jumped, falling against the towering hedge, frightened. Memories of mobat claws on her arms, in her hair invaded her head, but when she opened her eyes, they fell on a falcon standing in the grass. It wasn't black, but a soft golden brown. It made a small, quiet cry, and clicked its beak at her. But in the next instant, its body distorted, lengthened, until Corporal Hass knelt before her on the grass, soaking wet. His eyes pleaded with her, but before she could say a word, he fell unconscious to the ground.

* * *

_- The Underground Prison -_

* * *

Wyatt Cain awoke in complete darkness. His head pounded; he noticed his hat was missing. A strange thing to notice first, but he was coming around fast. He moved to find he was not injured, though his limbs were stiff. He wasn't bound, and that was something else. Checking his holster, he discovered they'd removed his firearm. He felt naked, vulnerable, and he didn't like it.

He grunted as he got onto his knees, then slowly stood. He stretched to his full height without his head making contact with the ceiling. He turned in a full circle; there was absolutely no light anywhere.

He walked blindly a few steps, hands outstretched, until he came into contact with a wall; he ran his fingers along it, felt the cool stone, indents of mortar in between huge, rough cut stones. He followed the wall, from corner to corner to corner to corner. The room was rectangular, and small. The door was reinforced metal, but no illumination seeped from underneath. The floor was dirt, hard packed.

Imprisoned. Again. He had space to move around; so what?

He sat across from the door, on the floor, made no sound. Waited, instead, listening. Waited to hear them first.

His thoughts roamed. He relived the last of his memories; a spooked horse, Az's scared eyes, he'd shouted... something_._ Too late to respond, to make a difference. His soldiers, where were they? In cells near his, also sitting in silence, waiting?

He wondered about his charges. Azkadellia, had they killed her? And her mother; did they both still live?

Hours, he sat... Adora and Jeb swirled in his mind. His son, hunting down fugitive Longcoats, an army at his back. Cain shook his head. Very few people had known that the men sent down for the palace guard had accompanied the Queen and Azkadellia into the wilderness. Almost everyone who knew about this mission had been captured along with him. _DG and Ambrose_, he thought. He didn't know how long he'd been unconscious, but he knew it would be a few days still before they were missed.

_Stupid, stupid_, he scolded himself, knocking his head backwards against the wall once, twice...

He heard water dripping. And a banging that sounded like pipes. When finally he heard footsteps, he thought he might be imagining it. But then metal scraped against metal; they were opening the door to his cell.

Cain rose to his feet. The light spilling in from the passageway was dim, but it nearly blinded him. He put a hand out to shield his eyes, and squinted.

Two men entered the room. They were human, which interested Cain more than it troubled him. One stood behind, an automatic rifle in his hands. The second came forward, stood before Cain.

"You left the royal palace to the south with six soldiers." It was a statement, cold hard truth. Cain said nothing. His captor spoke again. "The Sorceress Azkadellia left with an escort of six armed men." Again, it wasn't a question.

"Princess," Cain corrected smugly. He felt stronger on his feet. "Princess Azkadellia."

"We only captured five men."

Cain took this information in; he kept his face an unimpressed mask. "You let one get away, did you?" Who hadn't they captured? If it was Hass... well, then that was definitely reason to hope.

The man's face showed very little of anything, but it did not register amusement. "Five men," he repeated. "Where is the sixth?"

"Honestly don't know."

The grunt with the gun stepped forward, and Cain's reaction was too slow. His feet were knocked from under him. His comment earned him a swift kick to his ribs; pain shot through his chest, and he coughed. Staggered to his feet.

"Where would your man report?"

Cain grit his teeth together as he stood straight. "He'd report back to the generals at the Witch's Tower." Bold faced lie, no one in the Army of Resistance knew anything of this mission. And no army, human or not, would storm the Witch's Tower in search of one escaped soldier.

"The Witch's Tower is two days ride."

_Two days ride. That could put us anywhere in the damned western mountains_. Cain caught the eyes of the man standing in front of him. His guard had melted back towards the door and the wall. His ribs ached. "Well," he said, as if he were giving the matter great consideration, "if you hurry you might be able to catch him."

Much to his surprise, they didn't beat him. They left him in the dark instead. He backed up towards the wall, slid down to sit again, his arms on his knees. He found himself praying, actually _praying_, that it was Hass who'd gotten away. He'd report back to Finaqua, to Ambrose, taking less time on the journey if he followed as the crow flies... so to speak.

Cain felt tired, more tired than he had in a long time. Nights recently had not been plagued by nightmares, but had been blissfully empty of dreams, of unrest. The images of his family's abduction had faded, as he'd found himself too busy in Central City to think of them, and too tired at the end of the day to dream of them. He scooted to his left, to the corner, where he'd have more support. He wouldn't lie down, but sleep sitting up.

He heard a soft whine in his head, far off and faint. _I can't sleep sitting up_. Her blue eyes flashed before him in the darkness.

* * *

_- Finaqua -_

* * *

A pair of gardeners had come to her aid when she screamed for help. As they lifted the unconscious soldier from the grass and struggled to carry him between them across field of knee high grass to the house, DG followed behind in a daze. Her mind raced, thoughts exploding. Her heart felt like lead weight in her chest.

The house was a flurry of activity when the shouting group banged into the entry way. People started calling out, for Ambrose and for water and for blankets. DG backed against the wall, watched as Ambrose tore down the stairs, nearly tripping over his feet as he reached the bottom. His face did little to mask his concern and fear. She grabbed a passing page boy roughly by the arm, startling the poor thing.

She relaxed her grip. "Someone must go for my father."

The boy nodded. "Yes, your Highness." He ran out the front door into the rain.

She stumbled across the the marble tile, down a wide corridor, where she knew a secluded alcove hid behind a thick tapestry. A place where extra chairs were kept; the palace's version of a storage closet. Once she'd lifted the tapestry out of the way, and let it fall with a _whoosh_ behind her, she didn't even bother with a chair; she lowered herself to her knees on the cold floor.

Her heart hammered in her chest, but she breathed deeply, evenly, trying to calm herself. _Azkadellia_, she thought in fear. _Mother._ And then... _Cain... oh, please no. _She put one hand on her chest, covered her eyes with the other. A ridiculous position for a princess to be found in, kneeling on the floor covering her eyes like a child playing hide-and-seek. She knew they were trying to revive the corporal now; she wanted to be there when he awakened.

"Calm down," she whispered to herself. "You don't know... you can't know yet. Find out what's going on."

After a moment, her advice to herself seemed to take effect. She got up on unsteady legs, and stepped out of her hiding place. It took her a few minutes to find an attendant.

"Where did they take the corporal?"

"The library, my lady," the attendant stammered, daunted by her urgency. DG had little time to dwell on it as she ran through the hallways, her sneakers pounding on the floor. She was out of breath when she reached the library; she tried to slip in quietly.

The soaked corporal was laid out on the chaise lounge near the window. Raw stood behind, stooped to hold his hands on the man's shoulders. Trying to awaken him. Raw was shaking his head, his expression fallen, sad. DG's heart plummeted. No one had yet seen her.

Ambrose watched out the window, chewing absently on his fingernail. Every few seconds, he would glance nervously over his shoulder, to the soldier laying not too far away. DG couldn't decide who looked more upset. She skirted the perimeter of the room, quietly as possible so as not to disturb the Viewer, and approached Ambrose at the window.

He glanced at her over his shoulder, waved dismissively. But then he noticed her, _really_ noticed her, and he looked instantly suspicious. Impatiently, he whispered "What happened out there?"

DG was unimpressed with his tone, but knew better than to tell him off here. "He's a shapeshifter. He... well, a falcon flew down and landed in the grass right in front of me, and shifted into Corporal Hass. Then he passed out. He didn't say a single word. Then, I called for help."

A sharp intake of breath behind them alerted them to the soldier's consciousness. Both DG and Ambrose whipped around. Hass immediately pulled himself into a sitting position.

"They've been captured."

DG felt her stomach drop, her heart stop. "Captured?" Did she hear right?

"Bella!" Ambrose shouted. He left the window, went to the door of the library. The shocked woman hurried in, her eyes wide. "Bella, you must send for General Andrus..." he slowed, stopped. "No, I have to send for Andrus. You can't do it." He left the room at a run.

Raw had taken a step back from the chaise, stood against the wall. He'd seen something in Hass' mind, something that greatly disturbed him. He looked in pain. DG put her hand on his arm.

"Raw?" But the Viewer only shook his head.

She sat down on the lounger next to the corporal. When his gaze met hers, she grabbed his hand. She looked into the eyes of the last person who had seen her mother, her sister... and _him_.

"What happened?" She tried to keep her voice steady. Tears threatened, but she blinked them away.

"I... I can't tell you, Princess," the soldier muttered. "I was sent ahead... the captain sent me ahead to scout... my eyesight is better than most..." DG watched him, as his eyes searched frantically at the floor, trying to make sense of what he had seen. "I could hear their horses, the captain shouting. Then a woman screamed, I think it was your sister..." he trailed off. A wave of nausea hit her, but with difficulty she fought it back. Az... oh, when would they have peace?

Ahamo was calling her name. DG stood, put her hand on Hass' shoulder, trying to steady herself. "The library!" she shouted, maybe louder than necessary. A moment later, he was standing in the doorway. He eyed the soldier, moved forward quickly. He grabbed his daughter and embraced her tight.

"What happened?" he demanded; his voice was hard.

Hass shook his head. "I heard them shouting. The horses were scared. The ground collapsed, a huge hole just swallowed them up. I shifted right then, on my orders. Flew here... the princess was the first person I saw as I came over the maze."

"When, when did this happen?" Ahamo asked.

"Mid-morning, perhaps eleven o'clock."

DG shook her head. Eleven... she'd been in her magic lesson. The thought seemed absurd; to be inside doing something so menial when those she loved were terrorized and abused. Her stomach flared again. "I... I have to go," she said weakly. Ahamo watched her go, but did not follow her.

She walked with composure. She realized she was still wearing her cloak, but her trembling fingers fumbled at the fastenings. She tore it over her head, threw it to the floor in the middle of the hallway, left it behind. No one saw her; the second floor was empty, not a single person in sight.

When she reached her sitting room, she slammed the door behind her. She leaned back against it, breathing hard. She felt sick. _Captured_, she thought. She heard Hass' words, over and over again in her mind, a scratched record. _A huge hole just swallowed them up... a huge hole just swallowed them up_...

DG gripped a pillow in her arms, held onto it for dear life. She prayed to God, the God of the Other Side, wondering if his influence was as far reaching as the Outer Zone.

A soft knock on her door. "Come in," she called, still trying to fight back her tears. Like holding back the tide, she failed miserably. The first drop slid down her face, clung to her chin.

It was Raw who entered. She sat up quickly, released her pillow. _Crying and praying_, she scolded herself. _Cain wouldn't cry _or_ pray._

Raw was shaking his head at her. "DG is upset too quickly," he said wisely. "Army General will be here by morning. DG's father takes action; find peace in this."


	9. Chapter Nine

**Author's Note**: Thank you to all my readers, reviewers, and subscribers.

* * *

**Of Light**

**Chapter Nine**

* * *

_- Finaqua -_**  
**

* * *

By Monday evening, as twilight fell over the lake palace, DG had taken a seat in Ambrose's study and refused to move.

Ambrose stood at the window, watching into the darkness. She wondered how much beyond his own reflection he could see, if he was really seeing anything at all. Ahamo had abandoned the study, had disappeared somewhere deep within the palace. DG had sat stone still while her father had moved about frantically, and wherever he was now she knew that he would still be on the same momentum that had sent him out the study door in the first place.

Corporal Hass was standing over the desk, staring at the map that had been laid out. The men had drawn all over it, first the expected travel route of that the company had taken... or had hoped to take, at least. A huge red circle surrounded the area where the disappearance had taken place, labeled _Mon_ _1100hrs._

They waited on General Andrus, and what they all guessed would be a very large group of soldiers. DG knew now that danger had been expected, that her mother had hoped secrecy would be on their side, that they just wouldn't meet trouble in the first place. DG had asked, somewhat tartly, if they had let Glitch plan the mission.

She felt angry, betrayed that no one had told her that her family, that Cain and his men had been in any danger at all. She'd known that Longcoats had presented a threat, as they constantly did now, but she had been under the impression that they couldn't mount an offensive as scattered and ill-equipped as they were without the Sorceress' power behind their backs.

She'd wanted to scream. But she knew such behavior would quickly get her banished back to the kids' table. So she held her tongue, and stewed quietly in the corner. But after a while, silence became incredibly lonely.

"Andrus is coming by car?" she asked no one in particular.

"General Andrus," Ambrose corrected. DG tried to look sheepish. "Yes, he's on his way now. Your mother's secret mission isn't so secret anymore."

DG shook her head. "She should have taken more men."

Hass shook his head, and for the first time since arriving he cracked a smile. "That's what the captain said." DG looked away, the mere mention of his name sent her mind reeling. Too many fears and uncertainties muddled her thinking. The corporal continued, "He thought we should have waited a day, taken more men."

Ambrose shook his head. "But your mother was quite adamant about leaving as soon as possible."

Cain's voice echoed in her head. _Quick and dead... slow and breathin'._ She glanced at the clock; it was almost nine. She stood and said goodnight. Both men barely noticed her, which in her stressed state she was thankful for. In the demands of the situation, formalities were forgotten.

She walked slowly down the hallway, towards the front of the palace. _They would have put the Emerald back by now_, she thought. _And in the morning, they would start home. _

No matter the darkness, they had been provided with one tiny glimmer of hope. Wherever they were, they were _alive_. Raw knew as much. In her bedroom, when he'd come to comfort her, he had told her. "Captain Cain, DG's mother and sister are alive. They sit in darkness, but they are alive."

She didn't go to her rooms. She wasn't sure if, in this vast palace she would hear the arrival of General Andrus. She also worried about going to sleep at all. She didn't want to dream about Dorothy, didn't want to dream of dark, narrow places. After an hour of wandering the hallways, she returned to Ambrose's study, not seeing any point in going to bed. When she reached the doorway, she could hear them talking.

"If they've been taken by Longcoats, we have more hope of finding them," Ambrose said. Then he laughed. "Hey, how many Longcoats does it take to screw in a light bulb?"

"But, if they've been taken by Outlanders, the general will have no hope of finding them unless he is threatened directly or contacted for demands," Hass said. DG could tell he'd already had practice ignoring Ambrose's glitchy outbursts.

DG cleared her throat. Both men turned to look at her, startled. "They could have been taken by Outlanders?"

Ambrose studied the floor. DG wasn't sure he would tell her what was going on; she reached out and touched his wrist. "Please, Glitch," she said softly. "I want to know what's going on."

Glitch's dark eyes met hers. "It's possible. Your mother was worried about the threat they presented, or could possibly have presented. They seek an end to the Gale dynasty."

DG's eyes narrowed. She looked intently at her shoes for a moment before speaking. "They want to kill my family?"

The corporal spoke up, trying to make his tone as comforting as possible, but DG didn't find him the least bit reassuring. "No... no, we don't think its as serious as that. We think they are trying to remove your family from power, from the throne of the O.Z."

"But _why_?" she asked.

"During the rule of King Pastor, the Outlanders were a chosen elite force. Foreign, but still... Pastor usually hired them to do, um... his _dirty_ work," Ambrose said. "It was quite an interesting relationship. He'd want something done, and he'd pay them to do it. The Outlanders provided the King with jewels from their mines, and the King _overlooked _the human slaves the Outlanders took from near the border."

He dropped his tone so low that DG had to lean close to hear him, as if he were afraid the long buried monarch would burst out from behind the curtains. "When Dorothy Gale was chosen as his successor to the throne, she had the Outlanders banished from the O.Z. on pain of death."

DG didn't need to hear anymore. She held up her hand, and went back to her chair in the corner. Settled down, pulled her knees to her chest and put her arms around them. Hass was watching her curiously. But Ambrose just shook his head, went to the desk to study the map again. In less than six hours, General Andrus would arrive. DG couldn't seem to stretch her brain to think very far beyond that. She lay her head down in the cradle of her arms, and closed her eyes.

_It was a small room, but it was dry, and there was a lamp. A cot was pushed up against the wall. The door was unlocked._

_She wandered the underground complex. Anyone she met gave her wide berth; no one would speak to her. She could explore for days, but eventually she always came across a locked door, a dead end. She was trapped; even if she could walk the prison, she was still a prisoner. _

_Evenings, she was expected to sit in Roke's suite of rooms like an ornament. Said he enjoyed her cheek... so she stopped giving it. She sat silently, trying not to look bored. Exploring the complex was much more interesting; she could find the dungeons, barracks, and kitchens now. She knew, also, that she had been previously kept in the slave quarters. _

_Roke was not bothered by her silence. He spoke to her anyway. "Found something that I think might interest old Pastor," he said. She knew he spoke of the glowing emerald. It sat before her on the table, like a showpiece. It made her uneasy. He caught her staring at it. "We wait on Pastor's men to come examine that. Might be very important. Might be _very_ valuable_._"_

Someone was shaking her. "DG, go to bed. Its almost four a.m., you need to go to your room."

She opened her eyes, confused. "Glitch?"

The advisor helped her to her feet. She rubbed her eyes, swaying at the shift in position. "Come on, DG. I'll take you."

She shook her head as he caught her by the elbow, began to pull her from the room. "No, I want to be awake when Andrus arrives."

"DG, the general is already here, and they're waiting to use my study. I can't exactly cover you with a blanket and hope they don't notice you muttering in your sleep. You can't be there, you don't have the clearance," he told her. She began to protest but he cut her off. "No, I will tell you everything in the morning, I promise. Don't argue, you're only going to embarrass yourself in front of Andrus and his men. Arguing makes you sound whiny."

"Look who's talking about embarrassing oneself," she snorted. "And being whiny!"

Glitch looked her in the eyes. "I promise, first chance I get."

She sighed. "Fine, but I go begrudgingly." He smirked, turned around and walked back the way they had come. "Begrudgingly!" she called after him. As she crossed from one wing to the next, passing the top of the grand stairs, she could hear men talking from below. They were crossing the foyer, headed towards the front doors.

Her eyes widened; she was already on her way down the stairs when she called out "Cain!"

* * *

_- The Underground Prison -_

* * *

The weathered old man that brought his meals also brought him meager tidbits of life within the prison.

The first visit occurred a few hours after he'd been kicked off his feet. Cain had fallen asleep in the corner of the room, and the sound of the lock disengaging brought him to immediate alertness. He climbed to his feet, squinting in the bright light that flooded his cell.

An old man shuffled in, carrying a tray. In the middle of the room he stooped, placed the tray on the dirt floor. He grunted loudly as he pulled himself to standing again.

"What day is it?" Cain asked him, hardly hoping for a response.

"It's late Monday," the old man wheezed. Cain eyed the tray, noticed along with the paltry offering of food, a few white candles and a box of matches sat. The old man padded slowly out of the cell; Cain saw a guard standing outside in the hall, who closed the door and left him in darkness once again.

It was difficult to light a match in the dark, but he managed after a few attempts. After putting the small meal into his stomach, he walked around the perimeter of his room again, holding the candle aloft, studying the walls. He nearly tripped on a metal bucket sitting in one corner; good to know where _that_ was.

He blew out his candle, and placed the bundle and matches in the pocket of his jacket. He thought, absently, of his duster, hanging in the tiny box of an apartment in Central City, and its deeper pockets. _What a stupid thing to think about_, he chided himself.

He wandered the room. Sat, stood, paced, sat again. Kicked the door a few times, for good measure. Did push-ups, furiously, until he collapsed with his face on the floor. How many hours had passed? How long would he be kept in this dark hole?

He slept. Nightmares plagued his brain, ruined the escape of slumber.

He was awake, leaning against the wall when the door was opened again. The same old man walked in, bent over, Cain thought, to mask his height. He was carrying a new tray. A bowl, with a grayish sticky paste inside. Appetizing. He placed the tray in the middle of the room as he had done previously, then walked over to the far wall, where his old tray sat. Cain did nothing to move, to help the old man.

As the aged body bent to pick up the tray, Cain heard a bristled whisper. "Your Queen gives them trouble. One of the guards thought he'd fancy a touch. She put a hairpin in his hand."

Cain did nothing, said nothing. The old man left him alone in the darkness. When the door scraped closed, Cain managed a smile, the first since waking up in this pit of hell. Not only did this news amuse him, he knew now that the Queen lived. Somewhere, she sat. Imprisoned as he was, he didn't know. Maybe now, after a stunt like that. He shook his head, a faint smile still on his lips.

Tuesday morning. Rain or not, they'd be on their return journey now, the Emerald locked away with the Grey Gale. Two days ago, he'd promised DG he would return to Finaqua, spend a few lazy days at her beck and call. But... no, he'd _promised_ nothing.

He closed his eyes in the darkness, ignored the food that waited for him. _Sorry, Princess. This is going to take a bit longer than we thought._

* * *

_- The Underground Complex - _

* * *

Azkadellia sat perched uncomfortably on the edge of a black leather sofa. The room around her was lavishly decorated, its opulence exceeding that of even her mother's tastes. It reminded her too much of the Witch, the heavy fabrics and dark colors.

She'd been in this room for almost a day. A young girl in dirty rags brought her food, tidied up a bit. The girl wouldn't speak to her, wouldn't make eye contact. It was something Az had become used to since returning from the Witch's Tower, and it didn't bother her.

Az had awoken in this room in her riding clothes, her face smudged with dirt. The room had no windows, and the door was locked from the outside. She'd kicked the door, screamed, begged, and cried. Called for her mother, her father. No one had come for hours, and when the door finally did open, only the little girl in the patched dress had come in. A guard stood in the doorway with an intimidating automatic weapon. But he didn't wear the familiar leather longcoat and that confused her. Scared her.

A bookshelf held many volumes, but she didn't look at them. She had explored every corner of the room, found nothing that would help her. Her belongings had been dumped on the table in the center of the room; her bag of silly toiletry items, the wooden box containing the Emerald. When she saw it, her heart had leaped with joy. She spent the whole of her first day pacing restlessly, one wall to another. Sometimes she cried, more often she didn't. She'd slept in the bed, on top of the covers.

That morning (if it really was morning, if she could really trust the clock hanging from the wall), a woman had bustled in behind the little girl. Her clothes, too, were dirty, torn. But in her arms, she carried a bundle wrapped in tissue paper. She shoved it at Azkadellia.

"You're to put this on. Your audience with the Commander is to be this afternoon." The woman nodded towards the small adjoining bath. "You'd best hurry, he'll be here soon." Then the ragged pair left her alone again. Az unwrapped the package, found inside a black dress of lace and silk.

She bathed, then combed her hair. She had only a ribbon to tie her hair at the nape of her neck. She slipped the dress on, glad to be rid of the scratch and smell of her riding suit, worn too many days.

And now, she sat on the sofa. Waiting, watching the door. She wrung her hands in her lap. Commander... of what?

She heard feet in the hallway, heard the lock click. Two guards entered the room, stood against the wall inside the door. Az rose slowly to her feet.

The man who entered next was so tall, he had to duck his head as he came in the door. Azkadellia studied him. He wore a sleeveless tunic, military-style cargo pants. A holster held a firearm at his hip. His skin looked rough, his face hard. Black eyes bore into her.

She was frightened, but tried not to let it show. She raised her chin. If possession by the Witch had taught her only one thing she remembered, it was how to be a bitch.

The Commander nodded towards her, like choosing her from a room full of people. "You are the Keeper of the Emerald."

Az said nothing. She worried at any moment her emotions would betray her, that she would collapse in a crying heap. The Commander stared at her, and though his face did not visibly soften, his next words were gentler.

"You need not be frightened of me, your Highness." His courtesies didn't sway her. She tried to stand firm on her feet, straightened her shoulders.

"Where is my mother?" Azkadellia demanded.

He cocked his head to the side, sizing her up. "Your mother's living quarters resemble yours. She's quite safe."

Az shook her head. "No. Not safe! Living quarters? This is a prison."

"Your mother is only confined because she insists on being difficult."

"I've been locked in here since my arrival!" she protested.

"You will be free to go soon, little girl," he said derisively. "First, you must do something for me."

She was confused. "There is nothing I can do for you."

Then he echoed his greeting. "You are the Keeper of the Emerald."

Az said nothing, again. What could she say? Her mother's mission would not be revealed by her tongue, they would have to pry the information from her head.

"We discovered a curious thing when we went through your belongings," he said. He began to walk in a slow circle around the room, wandering from one piece of furniture to the next. When he ran his fingertips over the surfaces, she could hear them scratching the wood. "That box is locked by magic."

He had moved out of where she could see him, but she didn't turn. Without looking at him, she felt braver; she tried to channel the angry, intimidating person she'd been forced to be for so long. "That box is locked by powerful magic. You will never open it."

"But you can." The Commander tapped his finger on the mantel of the fireplace. _Chink, chink, chink._

"I won't," she said. She made her voice hard, tried on a familiar tone, thicker, deeper.

He chuckled. "You don't have a choice."

"But I do."

The Commander came up behind her quickly. Grabbing a handful of her hair, his fingers scraped against the back of her neck; his skin felt pebbled, like sandpaper. Az cried out loud, surprised by the sudden aggression. She was alone; DG was perhaps hundreds of miles away, unable to help her, supplement her magic to save her. He turned her around roughly; she stared up into his face, his black eyes. He dragged her over to the table.

"Open the box." When she didn't move, he grabber her wrist; the alarming thought that he could probably hold _both_ of her arms in his massive grip crossed her mind. But he held her hand over the box. He released her hair, but still held her by the wrist. "_Open the box._"

Azkadellia was terrified. Her sensitive skin could feel the warmth of the magic radiating from the lock; she felt it seeping into her hand. It burned like acid flowing through her veins, up her arms and into her chest. With all her might, she tried to shove it back towards its source, not caring if the force of it blew the lock. Her emotions surged like an electrical current. "I can't!" she screamed, and the shock-wave that erupted with her words threw the Commander backwards. He hit the wall and slid to the floor.

Az snapped her arm back toward her chest, cradled it against her. The pain was dissipating fast, but her heart hammered, she had a hard time breathing. The Commander pulled himself to his feet, glared hard at her. Az dropped her gaze, dared not look at him. He snapped his fingers, and walked out of the room, his guards following close behind. He left the box laying on the table. The sound of them locking her in seemed to echo.

Through a maze of hallways, he came to a stop at a heavy door. The Commander nodded at the guard, who fumbled with his keys, unlocked the door.

Still as a statue, the Queen of the O.Z. sat on the bed. She didn't look surprised to see him. The magical surge had probably disrupted the entire complex.

"Commander," she said softly, and smiled at him. As if she were pleased to see him.

"Your daughter will not retrieve the Emerald," he told her. The Queen said nothing, her face unchanging. He shook his head, and decided to get a little satisfaction in dragging the expression off her features.

He turned to the guards who had followed him in, who stood by the door at attention. "Shore," he barked, addressing one. "Organize a raiding party. You're going upstairs. The Princess Azkadellia misses her sister."


	10. Chapter Ten

**Author's Note**: Thank you to all my readers, reviewers, and subscribers._  
_

* * *

**Of Light**_  
_

**Chapter Ten**

* * *

_- Finaqua -**  
**_

* * *

Andrus disliked Jeb Cain with a passion.

The older general stared down the young man before him, an expression of exasperation on his face. "How did you get here before us?" he asked.

The young man shrugged. "I heard at the barracks about the Queen's escort going missing, so I thought my help might be needed."

"Your orders were to stay in Central City."

Jeb shrugged.

Andrus repeated himself. "But how did you get here before us?"

Again, Jeb shrugged. "I'm a fast driver."

Andrus turned away from the young soldier. The little bastard was too smug, too proud. He'd willingly stepped down to a less taxing position when the Resistance fighters had become her Majesty's official force. But he still carried the attitude of a man who took orders from no one.

Jeb was staring at Andrus' back. The old general had his hands clasped, as if he were thinking. If he'd have bounced once or twice on the balls of his feet, he might have been the headcase advisor. To the general's back, Jeb smiled. Andrus was uptight, and he found it funny. Jeb found a lot of things amusing these days.

Andrus spoke, his back to Jeb still. "I have been informed by the Prince Consort that his youngest daughter will require some _watching over. _Do you think an impetuous young man such as yourself would be able to handle such a menial task as babysitting a fully grown princess?"

The smile was wiped from Jeb's face. _Ouch._ "Yes, sir," he said quietly. Andrus wasn't as amused at the situation as he was, and now had let him know it. A refusal would mean being sent straight back to Central City, maybe caught up at the government offices filling out paperwork for days while the rescue was launched. Jeb was not about to leave his father a prisoner. But his plan had backfired; now he was on guard duty.

Outside in the passageway, a friend waited, leaning against the wall. Campbell had been in Jeb's unit during the storm on the Tower, and hand selected by the general for the mission... unlike Jeb Cain. When Jeb emerged, Campbell followed him down the hallway. He was chuckling by the time they reached the grand foyer.

"Maybe you'll get to go to a tea party. Remember, stick to talking about the weather," he taunted. Jeb found it hard not to knock the idiot unconscious right there. Things weren't so funny when it wasn't going your way.

"Cain!" came a shout from behind him. Both men turned to see DG running down the stairs towards them. Jeb managed to force a bit of a smile as he bowed his head respectfully towards her.

"Your Highness," he said, plastered with a fake smile. DG narrowed her gaze at him.

"What's your problem?"

Jeb laughed, relaxing a bit at her forwardness. "I came down here to see what I could do to help. As it turns out, what I get to do to help is be your personal escort for the next couple of days while the general negotiates the search for your mother..."

_And my father_, he thought a little bitterly. Not many people cared about the ex-Tin Man who was missing when he'd disappeared alongside the reigning monarch and the heiress presumptive.

"Well, try not to sound so pissed off about it," she said, but she was throwing an exhausted smile in his direction. "I'll see you at breakfast. I'm going to bed, gentlemen. Goodnight."

DG turned and walked away, impressed with herself at how well she'd managed her manners while so tired. It didn't hit her until the top of the stairs, after the men had left the building, what exactly Jeb had said. _Personal escort_. Her mind whirred all the way to her sitting room, but by the time she hit her bed, she didn't care. Let him trail her for a few days, what did it matter, they were all stuck between their inability to do nothing and their ignorance at what needed to be done. Rock, hard place.

She was so tired, so drained that she didn't dream.

When she awoke, the suns might have risen, but the sky was gray and overcast. The clock read a little past nine. She could hear the maids bustling quietly outside in the sitting room. Usually they chattered amongst themselves, but today they were silent. DG rose from her bed and dressed as quickly as possible. She surprised the maids when she burst out of her room. They all greeted her nervously. She ignored them, walked briskly past – she'd almost broken her toe her first night at Finaqua, running through the sitting room.

She was halfway across the palace, on her way to Ambrose's study, before she realized Jeb Cain was shadowing her. A discreet ten paces behind, strolling along comfortably as if he might just be going that way, too. She rolled her eyes, and kept walking.

"Good morning, Jeb," she said, without turning around.

"Good morning, DG," came his reply from behind her. "Did you sleep well?"

She slowed then so he could catch up. "Like a rock. Were you just standing outside my room, waiting for me to get up?"

"On my orders, my lady," was all Jeb had to say. DG continued her march to the study. When she got there, guard in tow, the door was hanging open. Peeking in, she saw no one; when she stepped in properly, she saw Ambrose sitting with his chair leaned back, a cup of coffee in his hand, feet up on the desk.

"Hey DG," he said with a smile. He looked exhausted.

She gestured to the mess of books, maps, and papers on his desk. "Rough night?"

Ambrose shook his head. "It isn't even nearly over. They launched the initial search party left this morning at first sunrise." He rummaged around on the desk for a moment, extracted a large sheet. When he laid it back down on top of the pile, DG saw it was a map. Ambrose pointed to the dot that was Finaqua. His finger followed a winding line that ran northwest. "Now," he said slowly. "Hass says there is an obstruction in the road that might stop the trucks. But if they can find a way around it, they'll be able to take them almost right up until where Cain had the party make camp."

"Where is Hass?"

Ambrose sighed. "Gods only know. The General was quite dismissive of his statements, keeps saying people falling into the ground would take months of planning, that if _he,_ the general, didn't know about the Queen's plan, how could enemies have surmounted such a task. Andrus is an idiot, and an ass."

DG smiled at her friend; for Ambrose to use profanity meant a huge dislike for the general. "He's a little prejudiced against shapeshifters," Ambrose said after a few moments. "Some people in the O.Z. think they tend to be untrustworthy individuals."

DG studied the map intently, waving off his comments about Andrus and his foregone conclusions. "You say a search party already left?"

Ambrose nodded. "A few hours ago."

The sound of footsteps from the hall broke their conversation. General Andrus, three other soldiers with him, walked into the study. Ambrose offered DG a weak smile as he escorted her out of the study, handed her over to young Jeb Cain, and closed the door behind him.

DG stared at the door for a few moments, surprised he'd closed it. Then she sighed, and turned to her companion. "Are you hungry?"

The day passed slowly, silently. It was late afternoon, her mother had been missing over a day. She felt lost in the palace without her mother. She'd spent most days watching as her mother quietly went about her tasks, signed papers, made dictations. But when out of the shadows her father would appear, DG would slowly fade into the background to leave the two alone.

Now, she was lonely. Her father was distracted, Ambrose hurried from one room to another without seeing where he was going. Raw stayed in his small chamber, meditating, trying to feel at all times the connection to the Queen and her daughter, to know if they were being harmed.

In the dark, narrow hallway outside his room, DG sat on the floor. It was the only place she felt anchored to her mother and sister, and to Cain. She stole a glance at his son, now. At the end of the passage, young Jeb Cain leaned against the wall, watching down the hall for anyone coming.

It wasn't the shouts of men that alerted her to trouble, it was Jeb's sudden shift in position, the way he suddenly moved from slouching to standing upright. When she keened her ears, she heard it: the sound of shouts, muffled, coming from far off. She jumped to her feet and took off down the hallway. She thought she might have heard him shout a warning, or perhaps a curse, at her back.

Men in uniform were running in and out of the palace. Everywhere, it seemed, people were shouting. She slapped Jeb on the arm.

"Go find out what's going on," she whispered. He looked around, and then his gaze met hers and he nodded. She watched him disappear. She moved towards the wall, trying to stay out of sight. Looking out the window, she saw a lone soldier walking the path towards the stables. It looked like Corporal Hass.

Jeb came running back towards her. His expression was grave.

"What is it?" she asked. The look on his face scared her.

"They found two of your mother's escort, dead," he said after a moment. DG closed her eyes, felt suddenly ill. She tried to shake it off; she didn't want to cry or be sick in front of Cain's son. Jeb gave her a few minutes, noticing how upset she became, before going on. "The search party returned with the bodies."

"Which?" she could barely bring herself to ask.

"I can't remember the names," he said shortly. "But my father isn't among them."

"No, Cain is alive, wherever he is," she whispered. She looked around. The palace at Finaqua, the lake paradise where she and her family were supposed to reconnect and rebuild the O.Z., was slowly crumbling around her. This was no safe haven, this was no place of rest.

"There's more," Jeb said. "The bodies were found over two miles from where Hass said the attack happened. But the bodies were dumped there, I overheard. They're trying to discredit the scout that got away, trying to lay a false trail."

"And Andrus doesn't believe the corporal in the first place," she said slowly, softly.

Jeb watched the princess closely, as she seemed to study her surroundings. She took off at a run so suddenly that it took him a moment to force his body to go after her. She led him out of the palace, along the lake shore; they followed the perimeter of the maze until they were at the stables.

Corporal Hass was saddling his horse. He looked angry. When he saw DG approaching, he stopped what he was doing, watched her carefully.

"Is there something I can do for you, your Highness?" he asked.

DG nodded. Jeb still watched her closely. "You can take us to where they disappeared." She called to Beaudon, the stable hand who stood listening. "Please saddle my horse and a horse for my escort. We're going for a ride in the woods."

Jeb was amazed at her. "You're going to get yourself into a lot of trouble," was all he could manage to say.

DG shook her head. "Az... Cain, my mother... they are out there and no one in that palace seems to be doing a single thing to find them. The search party returned, how long until they send out another one? I'm not standing around waiting for someone to decide they are going to do something. _I'm_ going to do something, and you can come with me if you want, or you can go back up to the palace and tell Ambrose what I'm doing. Its your choice." She was resolute.

Jeb sighed, shaking his head. "My father was right about you."

DG turned to him. "What do you mean?"

"He said you were stubborn enough to rival my mother."

DG tried to smile. _Cain. _She wished she could send her thoughts on the wind, that her silent plea might reach him wherever he was, give him hope in his darkness. _I don't know what we can do to save you, or my sister. But we're going to try. Hold on._

* * *

_- The Underground Prison -_

* * *

The heavy door opened, light spilling into the dark cell. Wyatt Cain shielded his eyes, stumbled to his feet. Two guards stood in the doorway. "You are being relocated," was all he was told. Five minutes later, he found himself shackled, and marched down a twist of narrow passages.

He did all he could to study his surroundings. Wherever they were, his best bet was they were underground. Led up a flight of stairs and down another hallway. They met no one as he was moved.

They shoved him roughly into another dark hole; he fell to his knees. Hauled to his feet and unshackled, the light from the passage outside showed him a table with a chair, a kerosene lamp. A bare cot. The floors and the walls were concrete, large pipes running along one end, disappearing into the wall, into the belly of the fortress.

When they closed the door behind him, he could hear the simplicity of the lock that held him. Just a key in the keyhole.

The cell was larger than the one below. Barely, but still. It was a little warmer, as well. He found the cot in the darkness and lay down. It wasn't long before he fell asleep.

When Cain awoke, it was to the click of the lock. In shuffled his visitor from downstairs, the ragged old man.

"Why was I moved?" Cain asked. He could see a guard standing outside his door.

The old man was quiet for a moment, considering his answer. He placed the supper tray down on the table. "Your stay has been extended, says the guards."

"So we are to be released?"

"If your ladies cooperate." The old man struck a match, lit the lamp. The light shone a ghastly orange glow on his craggy face. The old man turned to go. "They wait now for the second."

"Second?"

"Don't be a fool, boy!" the old man exclaimed. He shuffled out of the room.

The guard outside the door shoved the man in the back with the butt of his rifle. "Move along!"

Wyatt Cain was left alone as the door was closed and locked. He ran a hand through his short hair, stared at the food on the table without really seeing it. In his head echoed the words he'd told Hass their first night in the woods.

_DG is in no danger._

In the corner of the room was a tiny closet, containing a toilet and sink. He ran the water, washed his face, his hands. When he caught sight of his reflection staring back at him in the cracked mirror, empty blue eyes stared back at him. His mind ran wild with the possibilities of _why_ DG would be sought out. But everything he could imagine ended in ways he'd rather not picture. The removal of the royal family, the death of that fiery, mouthy girl he'd grown to care for, against all odds, on their journey together.

He returned to his small table. He wasn't hungry, but he drank the cup of water that came with the meal. He sat in the rickety chair, holding the cup in his hands, rolling it in his fingers.

Waited until morning, when the old man would return.


	11. Chapter Eleven

**Author's Note**: Thank you to all my readers, reviewers, and subscribers.

* * *

**Of Light  
**

**Chapter Eleven**

* * *

****_- Finaqua -_

* * *

It was late evening. Ambrose stood listening to the general and his men pouring over the maps, barely able to keep his eyes open. Ahamo stood silently, watching and listening to everything the general said. The poor man was in over his head, threats and intimidation he knew how to do, but this nothingness, helplessness was new to him. He looked lost.

"The search teams found nothing to support the corporal's reports," the general told Ahamo.

"You didn't even make it to where he said they disappeared," Ambrose pointed out. "Of course you found nothing to support what he told you."

Andrus shook his head. "Your Highness," he said, turning to Ahamo and ignoring Ambrose. "It would be my best advice to remove yourself and the remaining princess to the safety of Central City. You will need to make a formal announcement about the disappearance of her Majesty and the Princess Royal."

Ahamo shook his head. "Central City? There is no reason to go to Central City."

"Sir, with all due respect, you cannot remove yourself enough from this situation to see things clearly," Andrus said calmly.

Ambrose was impressed; the general was such a hard-ass, it was almost amazing to think he'd noticed the bereft state the consort was in.

Andrus continued. "This palace is not easily defended. If you move to the royal house in Central City, you would be surrounded by capable soldiers. And, you must make a statement to the public. I think it is the best way to coerce our enemies into contacting you. If your Viewer says the women are still alive, being kept somewhere, there must be a reason."

Ahamo was silent.

"There will be no hope of finding your wife and daughter if their kidnappers do not contact us. The outcry of the citizens might be enough to drive your enemies into revealing their demands as little sooner. They have been missing almost thirty-six hours, your Highness. Without being contacted, there is little hope of finding your family."

Andrus heard a giggle from behind him. He turned to see Ambrose standing in the shadows, a smile on his face and a hand over his mouth trying to hide it.

"Is something amusing you, sir?" he asked, his words barbed.

The advisor shook his head. "No, not at all, general. Its just you said there is little hope... this is usually when DG runs in to save the day." Realization quickly wiped the smile from his face.

Ahamo's head snapped up from studying the map, but Ambrose was already running from the room.

* * *

_- The Northwestern Road -_

* * *

She was beginning to think that being impulsive might be a failing.

By that evening, when it was too dark for them to continue forward with any obvious speed. Her seat was numb and her thighs were sore. She didn't know how late it was, didn't know how long they had been riding. Hass hadn't put up an argument, had lead them into the forest down the same path as Cain had led her mother and sister. They met no A.R. soldiers, no animals; they saw or heard no birds.

The first few hours had been exciting, dangerous. DG kept looking behind her, afraid to see an army truck rumbling up the road behind them to take her back to Finaqua. But as the miles melted away, she grew complacent in the fact that maybe they wouldn't notice her gone for _hours_. They might think her quietly hiding in her bedroom, crying as a good princess would, watched over by her personal bodyguard. In no danger, nothing to worry about.

"Corporal, will we stop soon?" she asked.

"As soon as we find water, your Highness," he replied. Berating him had done little to get him to call her 'DG', and so she bore his formality with gritted teeth every time he spoke.

They traveled through the thickening twilight, their only consolation that their horses wouldn't lose the road. DG craned her neck upwards. Through the trees, she saw the sky; the afternoon clouds had broken and now in the darkness the stars were beginning to come out.

She was wet, covered in mud. The white lace tea dress she'd put on that morning was destroyed; looking down at the embroidery of the skirt, she felt like she'd committed a crime, splattering the beautiful piece of clothing in muck and grime. She'd taken off her corset hours back in what modesty standing behind a tree could give her. She didn't care, she was just glad to be able to take it off and put it away.

And then there were the bugs. She had learned, traveling with Cain, and Glitch, and Raw, that the O.Z. was not without mosquitoes, and now, after two rainy, wet days, they were out in full force. As they rode through the darkness, she wondered if she might be able to channel her Light to banish the mosquitoes, but no matter how hard she concentrated, the bugs wouldn't leave her alone. Maybe magic couldn't be harnessed for such trivial things, or maybe she just wasn't as in control of her magic as she needed to be.

Jeb was riding beside her. At that moment, she wasn't speaking to him. At the stable, when she'd mounted her own horse, sitting astride in her white lace dress, Jeb had stared at her, incredulous, like she had shapeshifted in a three-headed-dog.

"What is it?" she asked him.

"Will you be able to ride like that?" he asked her. He sounded skeptical.

"Don't you worry about me and Molasses. We'll be fine," was all DG told him.

"You picked a horse named Molasses?" he asked with a laugh.

DG glared at him. "Come on, girl," she whispered to her horse, reaching out a hand to stroke the mare's neck and mane. Squeezing pressure into Molasses' side with her legs, they left the soldiers behind.

Now, out in the woods, her mood was as black as the darkness that surrounded them. In her head she was scolding herself at her impulsive decision and where it had led her. At least she wasn't alone, which was of some comfort. But not much.

Finally, _finally, _the corporal found a stream, and they stopped to rest.

DG dismounted her horse before Jeb could move to help her down. She held the reins tightly in one hand, leaning close against Molasses. Jeb could hear her whispering softly to the animal. Hass was reluctant to build a fire. Jeb was arguing with him; DG shut them both up by summoning a little buoyant light with floated in lazy circles around them. It would allow them to see what they needed to do, and DG could banish it when they were finished.

Jeb seemed uncomfortable at her impromptu display of magic. In the dim glow cast by her light, she could see him watching it suspiciously.

"It's not going to bite you," she said with a laugh.

Jeb shook his head. "Magic..." He looked at her, then laughed himself. "You didn't bring a change of clothes," he said, gesturing to her ruined dress.

DG rolled her eyes. "So spontaneity isn't my thing," she said tartly. Wet, cold, grumpy. "Sue me."

Jeb looked at her, quizzically. "Sue you?"

She sighed. "Forget it."

An hour later, they were sitting silently in the dark. Hass was sitting apart, watching into the darkness with his heightened vision. Whether he would see trouble coming, DG didn't know. She'd been given the ground cloth to lay down on, and she'd wrapped herself inside of it, trying to keep warm. A little way off, she could hear the horses stamping their feet restlessly. She tried to envision the map Ambrose had shown her, the winding brown line that was the road they now followed. They must know she was gone by now; Hass and Jeb, too, would probably be noticed as missing.

She didn't want to think of the trouble they would all be in if they didn't find what they were looking for.

Her eyes were growing heavy and her little cocoon was warming up. She could hear Jeb and the corporal whispering to each other a few feet away from her, but she was too tired to try and make out what they were saying, too tired to even uncover her head. They'd probably be discussing the mess she'd led them into anyway. Which wasn't entirely fair.

She closed her eyes, slipped into unconsciousness.

_Roke's black eyes seemed to burn a hole into her skin._

"_An escape attempt," he said through gritted teeth._

_She shook her head. She was crying. Stupid, stupid. "I... I..." she stammered, but she didn't know how to defend herself against his anger. _

_He had her by the arm, shook her hard. "Clothes! Food! You are allowed to wander freely; I even move you into this suite!" His large hand gestured around at the lavish, windowless room in which they stood. "And you try to run away! You _cannot_ run away!"_

_Tears fell down her face. "I don't belong here. I want to go home!"_

"_Oh?" he asked scathingly. "And where is your home?"_

_She opened her mouth to speak, but closed it quickly again. She tried to remember, had tried every night to remember where she had come from, where she had been going when she'd fallen down the shaft into Roke's subterranean fortress. Like the girl who fell down the rabbit hole. _

"_Rabbit hole?" she muttered, looking around. _

_He shoved her to the floor. "What nonsense is this?"_

_She shook her head. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry! I don't know."_

"_Pastor's men come tonight. Astronomers, scholars." He snorted a laugh. "Paper pushers. I will come to see you when they have left. We'll be leaving the Outer Zone shortly after. You will return with us over the mountains."_

_She shook her head. "I have to go home."_

_He laughed derisively. "You are home, girl. So look around and enjoy it." When he left her alone, he slammed the door, the hard sound reverberating against the beautiful walls of her prison._

DG sat up with a start. She put her hands on the sides of her head, as if trying to press the dream out. When would her mind belong to her again?

"Is everything all right, your Highness?" Jeb Cain's voice cut through the darkness.

DG looked around, but the night was too thick for her to see where he sat. "Everything is fine, thank you," she said, her voice sounding weak even to her own ears. "And this is your last chance to drop the 'Your Highness' crap. Next time I magic your mouth shut."

He didn't reply, and she smiled with the satisfaction of shutting him up. She lay back down on the hard ground, keeping her eyes open, even though in the darkness it didn't matter if they were open or closed. She'd apologize to Jeb in the morning for being so snappy, she decided, when she was on her feet, and it was light outside, and she didn't feel so vulnerable. The wilderness terrified her, though she wouldn't say so. Something was missing, something vital, and she didn't have to guess at what it was.

She burrowed deeper into the ground cloth, trying to imagine Wyatt Cain standing watch over her as she slept. The very thought of him, in this all-consuming darkness too much like the inside of her coffin, brought tears to her eyes. Overwhelmed quickly, she buried her face in her hands, shakings. Silently, she fought her sadness. What good would it do to have Jeb Cain hear her crying? Never in a thousand years could she tell him what bothered her.

Then something hit her hard, like a fist in the middle of her back. It was a physical sensation, painful, and she cried out. A hand entangled in her hair and she was hauled to her feet, kicking and thrashing at her unseen attacker.

"Watch out for the girl!" an unfamiliar voice said.

"_Let me go!"_ she screamed. She was being bound quickly, expertly... _tightly_.

It was dark, too dark. She couldn't see. "Jeb!" she called out, hoping for a response, but only the same unfamiliar voice came back to her.

"Quiet!" commanded the voice. She was shoved, and she stumbled. An arm reached out to catch her. "Take care with the Gale."

_The Gale? _she wondered. A moment of confusion passed before she realized they were talking about her.

Then a strange thing happened. A voice echoed in her head, from far away. Tutor's voice, deep and calm... and disappointed. _She allows herself to channel her Light through emotion. Her results are at best volatile._ She'd overheard him speaking to her mother one day. _Give me a break, I'm still a beginner_, she had thought that day.

She tried to empty herself, but it was hard. She was scared, and her courage seemed so unreachable. But a little whisper on the wind told her these were the men who knew the answers she sought. These were the men that would lead the way.

DG concentrated, envisioned her mother, calm and unwavering; pictured Cain, blue eyes alert, hand lingering over his holster. Summoning her energy, she focused on the scratch of the rope tying her wrists, and she felt her bindings loosen; she shook them off. She should have been able to make them disappear completely, but at the moment she wasn't complaining. This wasn't performing in the library for Tutor.

_Time to make the old man proud._

When the men were questioned later by the Commander, they recalled flashes of bright light, and a force that moved them bodily, a physical force stronger than anything they'd ever encountered, but as substantial as the wind. But now they looked up at the little girl in the muddy dress, her face streaked with mud and tears, hair undone, eyes blazing. Whatever fury of Light she summoned, it pressed down on their shoulders now, held them before her.

There were three in all, and she held them on their knees with the sheer force of her will. But she was weakening fast, she could feel the Light slipping. "Are you Outlanders?" she asked them.

The three lumbering men made no movement.

"Take me to my mother," she demanded, her voice barely above a whisper. She felt a soft touch on her arm, she turned to see Jeb standing behind her. He looked terrified of the very sight of her. Her eyes rolled back in her head and he barely caught her as she passed out.

* * *

_- The Underground Complex -_

* * *

The Commander could barely believe what he was hearing.

"She brought the three of you to your _knees_?" he asked. He sounded amused.

Lt. Shore nodded at him. He couldn't quite bring his gaze to meet the Commander's. He'd never been more ashamed of being successful in a mission, but things just hadn't gone according to plan.

"We came across them in the woods. Watched as they made camp, let their guard down. Netted that blasted shapeshifter." Whatever good it had done. Here Shore explained what had happened next, what he could only describe as an explosion of magic from the Gale princess. And here was where the Commander became amused. "To your knees," he said to himself, laughing.

The Commander stood. "I will go see the girl."

Shore shook his head. "She sleeps and will not waken."

The Commander looked thoughtful. "Have one of the medics look at her. Presumably her use of her gift exceeded her normal limitations, and she will wake in a few hours. But send a medic to her, anyhow. I want to be notified when she is awake."

Shore was dismissed. The Commander sat down at his desk, contemplating this most recent turn in events. He'd sent a small squad of men to abduct the young princess. Instead, the men had found their target in the woods, searching for _them_. She'd cowed his men with her Gale magic. Huge, hulking soldiers, kneeling in the mud before a princess in a white dress. The idea sounded ridiculous, but he knew... the royal family was not to be underestimated. The Gale line was strong, stubborn, quick and intelligent.

Her soldiers had been blindfolded. Only two men. The girl had run away from the lakeside palace, that much was almost certain, though her men had refused to speak.

The Commander wondered about this display of magic in the woods. Such impressive power would have drained the girl. It might be quite a few days before she would be ready to use it again... perhaps longer. He would have to keep her separated from her sister and the Emerald... quelling his thoughts, he stood and left his office. It was nearly dawn, time to tell the Queen of the O.Z. about her daughter's arrival.

* * *

_- The Underground Prison -_

* * *

Wyatt Cain awoke, feeling groggy and out of sorts. He no longer dreamed when he slept, was only visited by nightmares. His cell, no matter if it was bigger than the previous, felt oddly like the inside of the iron suit in which he'd waited for so many years. The holographic projection had been memorized, and as he slept it played over and over in his mind.

He was sweating. He got up and stumbled to the tiny bathroom. Removing his tunic, he tried to wash up in the sink as best he could, then turned around and washed his tunic as well, rinsing and wringing it, hanging it over the back of the little chair.

He sat shirtless in the dark, staring at the line of light that seeped in underneath the door. He had no idea what time it was, but he felt like he hadn't slept long. The guards observed their shift change near morning, not long before the old man came, and for this Cain listened.

On the cot, with his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands, he listened. He heard the scuffle of feet, mumbling of voices through the door. He strained to make out what they were saying.

"The little blonde should be moved to the dungeon," said one voice.

"Don't worry. Humans are easy to subdue," said the other. The guards continued to talk, but they were walking down the hallway, away from Cain's cell, and their voices faded.

A new prisoner. _Interesting_, he thought. One being kept here, instead of down below in the dungeons.

An hour or so later – could he really tell? – the lock clicked, and the door was opened. His new friend shuffled in with his usual fare. Cain sat up a little straighter. "You have more company," the little old man said. "Guards of the littlest Gale witch. The kid with her needed a beating to get him into his cell." The old man chuckled, closing his eyes, as if imagining the entire thing again.

"They have DG?" Cain asked, his voice strained. Trying to be quiet, to not alert the guard outside the door.

The old man nodded, and jabbed a thumb at the ceiling. The tray clattered onto the table, and again the old man lit the lamp. Stalling, it occurred to Cain. Again, the old man laughed to himself, a throaty sound. "They found her in the woods. Charging to the rescue. Now who will rescue her?"

At the old man's words, Cain felt a cinch in his chest. He drew in a breath, didn't let it out. The old man watched him with a smirk, then left the room, left Cain alone.


	12. Chapter Twelve

**Author's Note**: Thank you to all my readers, reviewers, and subscribers.**  
**

* * *

**Of Light  
**

**Chapter Twelve**

* * *

_- The Underground Complex -**  
**_

* * *

When DG awoke, her head was pounding. As her eyes slowly slid open, what she saw first was an unfamiliar black canopy above her head. She sat up quickly, blankets falling from around her; she looked down and saw she was still wearing her ruined white dress. Her surroundings were strange, and she was slow to move at first. The room was large, full of heavy furniture; there were no windows. It took a moment before she saw a young girl, wearing a filthy gray dress, moving about the room.

"Where are we?" DG asked the girl.

The little girl turned; DG had never seen eyes so wide and scared. The little girl said nothing, turned to go back to her work. She was building a fire, stacking wood behind the grate.

DG threw off the rest of the blankets, swung her legs over the edge of the bed.

"There is a dress for you in the wardrobe," the little girl said quietly as DG stood. "And the bath is through that door." She pointed. "You could take a bath before the Commander comes to see you."

"Who is the Commander?" DG asked. The girl only shook her head; she scurried from the room a few moments later, and the door was slammed and locked behind her. DG looked around, turning in a slow circle. Fragmented bits of the night before came slowly; shouts and rough hands and then light... her Light.

She wondered if her sister and mother were somewhere in this place. If Jeb was now being held in the same place as his father, if they were even indeed all in the same prison. She felt very lonely.

DG took a bath, washed, and then cleaned out the tub when she was finished. There was sweet smelling soap, and thick towels. When she was finished, she dragged her fingers through her wet hair again and again until they came away without snagging; she wove her hair into a single braid.

In the wardrobe she'd found a half dozen ankle length gowns, the type her mother favored. But tucked away near the back was a dress that reminded DG a bit of a flapper. It was soft pink and blue, covered with intricate black bead-work. She slipped it over her head; as she moved, the beads clicked together. The whisper of the fabric followed her as she paced around and around the room. Listened for footsteps in the hallway, for the girl had said he was coming. The Commander, whoever that was.

She fell onto the settee, exhausted from walking the room, and waited.

She was tired of waking up in strange places, tired of not knowing what was going on around her. The stranger in a strange land scenario had gotten old, right around Milltown, when everything she'd ever known was revealed to be a lie, and everything that was to be depended on her ability to remember.

Remembering wasn't going to help her now. She thought about Milltown, about Hank and Emily; relocated, motherboards damaged. The units remembered her, but they no longer felt the parental connection, she was just another human, not their child. DG shook the thoughts of out her head, forced herself to think about here and now, and not what was far away and gone.

She was just thinking about where she might conceal a weapon in her flimsy dress when she heard the lock click. DG jumped to her feet.

The man that stepped through the door – could you call him a man? – was huge. DG's eyes widened at his height, towering almost seven feet. Was this an Outlander?

"You are the one the Queen calls DG."

His voice was hard; it made her want to step away from him, but she held her ground. Being scared would not help her. _Courage, girl_.

"I am. Are you the Commander?" she asked. He nodded.

"My men tell me of an impressive display of magic last night in the forest."

DG nodded slowly, feigning understanding. She didn't know what to say, she could only remember bits and pieces of the night before. She'd awoken and then... what had happened? She'd forced her magic, used her fear to channel her Light towards her enemies... but how? She didn't even know, there was so little she understood.

"Will you show me your magic?" he asked, his tone lowering to almost a purr. It made DG shiver. For some reason, his meaning offended her, as if he'd just asked for a peepshow. She shook her head.

"I'm not a performing mobat," she snapped. She'd heard Ambrose use the expression once, and it slipped off her tongue before she'd given it much though. She was so tired of no one understanding the things she said, the Other Side things that came out of her mouth daily.

"How will you prove you are who you say?" he asked her. "How do I know that you are the princess?"

DG straightened. "Take me to my mother. She'll tell you who I am."

The Commander laughed. While sounding perfectly like a laugh, something at the base of it... like rocks scraping together. "You will see your mother when you leave."

"Where is she?"

The Commander turned away. Studied a vase that was sitting on a side table. His massive hands looked like they might crush it to dust; she was glad he didn't pick it up and prove her right. "Your mother is here in the complex. She will be kept separated from you, as will your sister."

"Az... how is she?" DG asked. She couldn't help herself, at the mention of her sister, her heart filled with worry.

The Commander laughed again. "She is a disappointment," was all he said. The words made DG feel ill.

"And what of my men? The palace guard that accompanied my mother. Did you kill them all?"

The Commander eyed this brave little girl. She stared defiantly at him, daring him to step closer, so she might ram her little foot down onto his boot. She looked the type to attack tooth and nail. "I hold five of your men detained. They wait to return you safely home, when you are released from my company."

DG shook her head. "You make it sound like we're guests at your resort. No offense, buddy, but this place is a prison and we're locked in here!"

The Commander shook his head. "Your door will not be locked, you will be free to come and go as you please. From your room, that is," he added. "You will not leave my complex."

"Are my mother and sister free as well? Why can't I see them?"

"Your mother and sister persist in being bothersome to my men. When the time is right, you will be reunited with your family and your soldiers, and you will be released. As long as I get what I want."

DG didn't like the sound of that. "What do you want?" she asked, narrowing her gaze.

"Something that you are unable to give in your present condition."

She was confused. "My present condition?"

He ignored her, continued on with his welcome speech. "At the moment, we are still within your lands, and that earns you a degree of respectability among my men, as does your potent magic. Explore the fortress to your heart's content, but you will not find your mother or your sister. Please, make yourself at home during your stay here."

He turned, and left.

DG stared at the door as it closed behind him. She didn't hear anyone lock it. When she tried the knob, it turned easily. She backed away from the door, her thoughts whirling fast. It was hard for her to say things weren't going as she planned, because she hadn't planned anything out. She never did, she always rushed in and lived minute by minute, taking things as they came.

So how to take this?

_Make yourself at home_, she thought with a snort and a laugh.

She sat down in one of the hard-backed chairs that surrounded the dining table in the center of the room. She wondered absently about Molasses.

It took her almost ten minutes to find her shoes, tucked underneath the massive bed. The silk slippers were muddy and hard; she knocked them together a couple of times to get rid of the caked mud, then jammed her feet into them. _If I could do one thing differently_, she thought, _it would probably have been grabbing my sneakers. _Whatever her non-plan had been when she'd left Finaqua, she'd gotten what she wanted. Sort of.

She slowly pulled on the heavy door, and it opened without a sound. The passageway outside her room was brightly lit by bare bulbs hanging from the ceiling. As beautiful as the room in which she resided was, the rest of the complex was no match for it. The walls were concrete, sterile and bare. Pipes ran along the ceiling, and so it was these she followed first.

DG wandered for almost an hour. One corner, and then the next, right left straight, it didn't matter. She was hopelessly lost, and came across no one to ask for directions. Suddenly, the idea came to like lightning.

_A light_.

It had become almost second-nature to summon, so that when it didn't happen, she was surprised. "Come on," she whispered to herself, shaking out her hands. Nerves, maybe? She tried again, picturing the friendly little light that dipped and bounced in the air. Her fingers began to burn, but not with warmth... pins and needles like she'd been holding them in freezing water. She opened her eyes, and still nothing. _Why isn't it working? _

She straightened her shoulders, her back. Perhaps better posture would make for better magic, like singing. But instead of breathing from her diaphragm, she tried to focus from the very core of her being. Someone shouted from down a long twist of passages... _Concentrate, DG,_ she told herself. _Focus on Mother... I want to see Mother._

A glow in her palm gave birth to a small, sluggish light. DG, momentarily proud of herself, watched it curiously. It didn't bounce, it seemed to slowly sway from side to side. "Are you okay?" she asked the light. She was worried the poor thing might be falling asleep at the wheel. It gave no response that she could detect, and she wondered if it _could_ respond.

"Can you lead me to my mother?" she asked it.

The light strayed to the left in the air, losing altitude. But in the next second it zipped back the way she had just come, and she had to run to keep up.

Everyone she came across gave her a quizzical look as she ran past. Ragged servants, guards, all human, none like the outlander who had come to her room. She kept her eyes on the light, not letting the maze of corridors or the random placement of another person in her path confuse her from her purpose. The light would not stop and neither would she.

_Wrong_.

The light slipped down underneath a heavy door, and DG pulled it open to reveal a stairwell, "U" shaped, heading upwards. The door slammed shut behind her, and she wondered if a guard might be following her, but no one came through the doorway after her. The light bounced upwards, now as excited as she, but DG stopped on the intermediate landing, looking up. The light was throwing itself against the door at the top of the stairs, unable to find a way past or through.

"Stop," DG commanded, and ran up to the top landing. She tried the door, but it was locked. She bent down to see a ridiculously complicated looking lock, an electronic keypad, bare wires visible. She looked at her light. "Can you take me to Azkadellia?"

Again, the little light ran into the door. And again – DG held up her hand. "Stop," she whispered.

DG sat down on the top step. The light hovered in front of her, near her hands. "Don't go leaving me, little guy," she told it. It rested on her outstretched palm, but did not disappear. Its warmth was comforting.

She'd been hoping her luck would get her through. She tried to think back on the week before the Eclipse, what had easily been the hardest time of her life. Everything she had faced, she'd done so only because it was the next step forward in the path laid out for her. Here there was nothing for her to follow... and she was alone. Her guardians had followed her every move on her journey, supported her, but here...

The idea came quite suddenly. Her heart jumped, and so did her friendly little light. It spun in a circle around her, almost as if knowing what she might ask before the words escaped her mouth.

"Please take me to Cain."

The little light was off, back down the stairs like a shot, and DG was after it, trying to keep up.

* * *

_- Finaqua -_

* * *

The Army of Resistance had set up a base camp at the edge of the maze, near the road. Bothersome as it was to walk around the maze – no one seemed to want to risk going _through _it – it was more than Andrus could take to see the Prince Consort running to the front hall every time a soldier came walking across the field towards the palace. A man with a wife waiting at home for him, a daughter grown and married, a grandchild on the way, Andrus felt for the consort.

Andrus had promised his wife he'd be gone a few days. Now he wasn't so sure.

It was fruitless to launch another search party, but the good general had done so anyway to appease Ahamo, and the Queen's advisor, the headcase. The disappearance of the princess had caused an uproar, an echo which still resonated. Reminded Andrus constantly of his failure to secure the girl.

_Punish the boy with such a humdrum task as guarding a princess_, had been the idea Monday night. Keep the kid out of harm's way. Instead, according to the stable-hand, DG had dragged the younger Cain into the woods. "Said they were going for a ride, General," was all the boy could tell him. "Asked me to saddle their horses, nice as you please. I didn't think anything of it."

_Two little children running off into the forest to find their parents._

His scouts had discovered how far the party had gotten. They'd found evidence of a disturbance, scorch marks on the ground and on the trees. Of that, he had not informed the Prince Consort. As the day drew to a close, as a full day had passed since the princess and her guard and the shapeshifter corporal had sneaked away unnoticed, Andrus grew worried. People were disappearing at an alarming rate, no trace of where they went.

Only the Viewer had any insight. Andrus had waited outside the meditation chamber while the advisor went in to speak in hushed tones. When he returned, his face was a mask of worry.

"Raw indicated he feels the same darkness surrounding DG as he does her mother and sister," Ambrose said, walking back towards his study with the general. Why such a favored family guest had a room so tucked away and private was beyond the general.

"Does this mean he feels she's been captured?"

The advisor nodded.

"Has her escort been killed?"

Ambrose spoke slowly, carefully. "Raw says not."

Andrus was angry. "Why kill two men? Why kill two from the first party, and leave the rest alive?"

"My guess would be that DG and Jeb Cain went quietly. Maybe even willingly."

Andrus didn't like the advisor. The man was too jumpy, spoke too randomly, occasionally spouted song or reminisced at length about obscure, patchy childhood memories. But, at times he was more astute than Andrus himself could ever hope to be. And he truly cared about the royal family.

"The search party had orders to return. Now that it is almost dark, we can expect them at any time," Andrus said. "I don't want any more of my men spending the night in those woods."

Ambrose left the general in the grand foyer, where the man would walk to his camp on the other side of the maze. Ambrose headed towards his study, where Ahamo sat waiting.

"Why didn't anyone tell me DG was assigned a _Cain_ to her personal guard?" Ahamo asked sharply. The slickness of his tongue and the slur in his throat told the advisor that the consort had been drinking._ With due cause. Where's the bottle?_

"Jeb Cain wasn't assigned to this mission, he showed up voluntarily. So Andrus gave him what he thought would be an out-of-the-way job. And, no one seemed to think that DG was going to go running off into the woods." Ambrose sat down at the desk, watched Ahamo where he sat on the sofa.

"You seemed to catch on fast enough," Ahamo pointed out.

Ambrose smirked. "It didn't cross my mind until it was too late. I was distracted," he muttered.

"What happens now?" Ahamo asked.

"Now we wait. Something will happen. It always does."

* * *

_- The Underground Prison -_

* * *

DG was at the bottom of the third flight of stairs. Though the staircase continued downwards still, her light led her to a heavy access door; it slipped underneath. DG hauled the door open, and followed.

A long, dim corridor stretched out before her, rows of windowless doors. Seemingly randomly placed, guards stood outside a few. Her light still continued forward hesitantly. DG took a step out of the doorway, and a voice beside her startled her. "Welcome, your Highness," it said.

DG turned to see a hunched old man holding a broom. He'd been in the middle of sweeping the hallway, and she was in his way. "You know who I am?" she asked.

"I know most of what goes on around here," he said, a bit mysteriously. "And it's not many people we see dressed in your finery down this deep. I am Jowan." The old man bowed his head at her, and smiled at her, his cheeks and forehead wrinkling deeply with the effort. "I am of the east province, or was, when I was young."

"Are you a slave?" she asked, trying to form the question kindly. How did you ask someone a question like that?

Jowan was not offended. "Yes, ma'am, since I was a boy." Strangely, to DG, he didn't seem in the least bit sorry about this fact. "Your little pixie is getting away on you," said the old man, nodding down the hallway where her light ambled slowly forward. He went back to sweeping the floor.

DG followed after her little light. When it stopped in front of a guarded door, the man eyed the light suspiciously. The light stayed, buoyant and strong in front of the door for only a moment longer, before disappearing with a flash. DG took a deep breath.

"Open this door," she said firmly.

The guard laughed. "Not bloody likely."

"I am not asking you to release this man, I just want to see him. I demand to see the captain of my mother's guard," DG said, trying out a voice that reminded her of Azkadellia.

The guard shook his head. "I have my orders, Miss."

"No, you have _my_ orders. Unlock the door," she said, her voice a sharp bark. The guard watched her for a moment, summing up her threat, perhaps. Then he reached onto his belt, took off a ring of keys. Unlocked the door for her, and stepped away. DG beamed at him. "Thank you," she said, with as pleasant as a smile she could muster after having acted so bossy.

DG lifted the latch, and pushed the door open. Light spilled into the room.

He was sitting in a chair on the far wall. When the door opened, his blue eyes raised, and DG felt her heart swell within her chest. She could barely contain herself. She watched as Wyatt Cain stood, his mouth slightly ajar, the surprise of her arrival rendering him speechless.

"Hey there, Tin Man," she said, her eyes glowing.


	13. Chapter Thirteen

**Author's Note**: Thank you to all my readers, reviewers, and subscribers._  
_

* * *

**Of Light_  
_**

**Chapter Thirteen**

* * *

_- The Underground Prison -**  
**_

* * *

Wyatt Cain sat by lamplight, studying the floor. He guessed it might be mid-afternoon, but he had no way of knowing. Time seemed to trickle in this cell as it had in the tin suit. But he stayed in silence, only talking when the grizzled old caretaker came by with his meals.

How could two days pass so slowly?

Cain leaned over, resting his elbows on his knees. He let his head hang. He was so tired, but he couldn't allow himself to sleep anymore. He might sleep an entire lifetime away in this cell, waiting. Lonely... he'd even take the zipperhead for a cell-mate if it meant someone to talk to.

An interesting sound permeated from under the door. Clicking, like hard-soled heels; very different from the beat of boots on the cement floors. Different from the pad and scrape of the old man's bare feet.

Muffled voices. The lock clicked, and the door opened slowly. He looked up from the floor, interested. A woman opened the door, having to throw all her weight into pushing it. In a knee-length dress she stood silhouetted in the light shining in from the hallway. Cain felt something inside still, then stop, as realization swept over him. He forced his body out of his chair, stood on his feet.

"Hey there, Tin Man," DG said with a mischievous grin.

Cain held himself in check, wondering how it was possible she was here. He'd assumed she'd be imprisoned, under heavy guard. To see her opening the door as if she were just coming for a visit made him suspicious.

"DG," he said slowly. He watched as her smile widened, as if she were happy he remembered her.

"Five minutes," the guard outside the door said firmly, and closed the door behind the princess.

As soon as the door closed, Cain didn't have time to brace himself before she threw herself into his arms. He caught her, folding his arms around her waist as hers wrapped tightly around his neck. She pulled herself as close as possible to him, and instead of being put off by her closeness, he found himself burying his face in her neck and inhaling the scent of her hair. It was unfamiliar; he disentangled himself from her.

DG looked at him quizzically, but in the next second she was stepping back, her eyes searching every inch of him.

"What are you doing here?" he asked her. He watched her intently as she dropped her gaze, studied her shoes. He'd seen the shoes already, had seen them when he took her all in as she opened the door, mud streaked slippers that betrayed her ladylike appearance. Fitting, proving it truly was her. But she didn't answer his question; he gripped her chin gently between his thumb and forefinger, training her face to look at him. "What are you doing here?" he repeated.

"I was supposed to be rescuing you," she said slowly. "But now it seems to be at the top of the list of the stupidest things I've ever done."

"You were captured." It wasn't a question. "But you're not a prisoner." She shook her head.

"The Commander said he wanted something from me, but that I couldn't give it to him yet."

Cain let go of her face. "The Commander?"

DG nodded. "I guess he's the one running things around here. He said that when he's got what he wants, we can all leave, and go back to Finaqua."

He took a step back from her. "Did he tell you want he wants?"

DG only shook her head. "No. He told me I could go where I pleased, and he didn't lock me in my room. I can't find Mother or Azkadellia. I've been separated from them, apparently. Like we weren't all playing nice together." She laughed at the absurdity of it. Laughed and laughed... and then she was crying. The transition of it was so fast, it took him by surprise. To see her crying, her face buried in her hands.

"Hey, hey," he said softly, guiding her back to sit down in the chair. She felt his warm hand on her leg, a comforting presence. He was whispering now, soothing her as one might a child. "Tears aren't going to help you now, kiddo." He was kneeling beside her. When she looked at him through bleary eyes, she noticed his concern. He was locked up and he was concerned about _her_. It sounded ridiculous, and it knocked her back to her senses.

DG wiped her eyes with the backs of her hands. "Sorry, Cain," she whispered. Her voice was strained. "I just can't seem to keep myself out of trouble." She tried to laugh, but it sounded forced, disjointed.

Cain smirked. "You got that right. What damn fool followed you into the woods this time?"

The question caught DG off guard. She'd never actually considered having to be the one to tell Cain his son was imprisoned... and not only imprisoned, being kept a few cells down. Throw in the fact that this was (once again) all her fault, and she might actually have Cain angry at her.

"Corporal Hass," she said quietly, "led the way. Jeb and I followed."

"Jeb?" Cain was instantly glaring at her. She cringed a little. But to her surprise, he laughed, shaking his head.

"You know, for some strange reason, that doesn't shock me. So he'll be chained up somewhere down here too."

DG breathed a sigh of relief, nodding. She waited for him to speak. "Good to know," he said finally.

Cain watched as she looked around the room, seemingly interested. "These are the slave quarters," she said after a moment.

Cain nodded. "Moved me up here yesterday. Said my stay had been extended."

DG laughed, wiping her eyes again. "Yeah... they tell you that you're a guest, and then they lock you in."

They sat in silence then, uncomfortable knowing that she would be leaving momentarily and he would not be going with her. She didn't like the thought of leaving him locked up in a dark cell. He stayed, kneeling at her side; his fingers absently played with the beading on her dress. Minutes passed in silence before he stood up and helped her to her feet.

"You'd best be gettin' out of here," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "Don't be comin' down here again, either. You don't want any trouble, and you don't want to find yourself locked in the cell next door." He searched her face for her compliance, but she only stared up at him, her blue eyes so wide and unsure.

DG reached up a tentative hand, brushed her fingertips along his jaw. Rough stubble scratched her skin. He caught her hand in his and pulled it away from his face. Continued to hold it, pressed against his chest. "DG, don't." How long it had been since he'd had a woman in his arms rose up like a wall, palpable, strong.

She noticed him stiffen. "Cain?" she asked. He dropped her hand, stepped away.

"This isn't the time for this," he said firmly. "Or the place."

"Then when?" she asked. Tears were coming to her eyes again.

_Oh please, don't let her cry again,_ Cain thought. He cleared his throat. "DG, I don't know. But what I _do _know is -"

"What, Cain? What do you _know_?" She took a step forward, toward him, closing the distance he'd tried to put between them.

He shook his head. "This isn't why you came down here."

DG laughed, that crazy ready-to-cry laugh again. "I came down here because I was alone. And scared." Her voice was cracking, and Cain began to feel a break in his resolve. He had to get her out of there, fast, before...

"Listen, kid," he said softly.

"Don't call me _kid_!" she snapped. A biting, cold breeze blew through the cell then, blowing out the lamp, throwing them into darkness. He heard a sob catch in her throat. "I'm sorry! I didn't mean to, I can't stop it when I get upset." Her breathing was shaky, hitched. "You're right, I should go."

Cain reached out for her. She was hugging herself. He unfolded her stiff embrace, and held her arms at her sides. Slid one hand up her bare flesh, finding the sleeve of her dress, playing it between his fingers. DG barely moved, could barely breathe. His hand cupped the back of her neck, tipping her face upwards. In the complete darkness, she couldn't see him, but felt his warm breath as he lowered his face to hers, captured her mouth in a kiss.

The touch of his lips surprised her; sighing, she relaxed into his embrace, seeking the taste of him. With a growl his grip tightened on her neck, and he kissed her harder. Almost immediately, she felt her knees buckle; his hand left her neck to encircle her waist, pull her flush against him. Her hands fluttered upwards to cup his face in the darkness; she kept her eyes open, wishing she could see into his eyes. His tongue brushed up against her bottom lip, and she gasped.

The sudden sound caused him to pull away. He didn't let her go, held her to his chest; she could feel his heart pounding.

Cain swallowed hard. Glad that in the darkness, he couldn't see her face, those vulnerable blue eyes. "Feeling braver now?" he asked her.

DG nodded, though she knew that he couldn't see her response. She tried to pull away but he held her fast in place. The heat from his body was disconcerting, his closeness seemed to be taking away her ability to remember how and when to breathe.

Trying to focus, she waved her hand in the direction of the table; the lamp flickered, then burned strong. "You should go," he managed to say, though his voice sounded strained. It was the third time one of them had mentioned her leaving, but still her feet didn't move.

DG searched Cain's face, but his expression was stoic, unreadable. She wondered if he might kiss her again, or perhaps if she had the courage to kiss him. But a loud bang on the door brought them quickly back to reality. They broke apart; immediately she missed the warm weight of his hand on her waist.

"Time's up!" the guard grumbled as he opened the door.

Cain had to give her the slightest nudge to get her moving, the push of his fingers on the small of her back. DG's eyes caught his at the touch, and she tried to offer him a smile, but all she could manage was a quirk at the corner of her mouth. She walked out of the room, saying a silent goodbye in her head, not risking the words in front of the guard.

She passed old Jowan on her way to the stairwell. Stooped over, sweeping with a push-broom, he didn't look up at her. But after she had walked by him, she could hear a soft chuckle from behind her. "Nothing wrong with that, Miss. Nothing wrong with that."

* * *

_- The Underground Complex -_

* * *

The Queen of the O.Z. despised her dining partner. The outlander who sat across from her was cruel, deceitful. But he'd insisted on dining with her since her arrival, taking supper and talking menial things. "Keeping up relations," he'd said. This evening marked their third meal together, and the first since her second daughter's arrival.

"You must let me see her," the Queen pleaded, but the Commander was unrelenting.

"No. I don't need you filling her head with nonsense."

The meal set before her was beginning to cool; she ate very little, merely let the wine wet her lips. The Commander didn't notice, too absorbed in his own plans.

"I am told your daughter DG knows very little about life on this side," he said. In defiance of his size and occupation, his table manners were quite decent, and though she found dinner unpleasant, it was not intolerable. "They tell me your daughter knows little of her own gift, of her strength."

"Who tells you these things, Commander?" the Queen asked icily. "My daughter is quite capable and in control of her power. She is unconditioned, but she is strong."

"Strong," he repeated with a chuckle. "That she is. She took out three of my men singlehandedly. Outlanders, as you call us, exceeding her in size and weight and number."

The Queen tried to hide her satisfaction, a brief smile disappearing in her effort to quell her emotions. "My daughters will not help you, Commander. Nor will they relinquish the Emerald."

"The Emerald was never rightly possessed by the Gales. It's usefulness has passed." The Commander was getting angry, his tone dropping dangerously.

"Neither of my daughters is strong enough to do what you ask," the Queen continued. "You saw that with your own eyes. Azkadellia could not even break her own seal. The power of the Emerald is too strong for either to conquer."

"Your daughter DG will open the chest for me," the Commander said, sounding very sure of himself. "Her performance in the forest is enough to prove that. She will open it."

The Queen shook her head. "She will not be able to destroy the Emerald. She does not have the control."

"We'll just see, won't we? When do you think her magic will renew?"

The Queen sat silent, staring down at the meal in front of her. Impatient, the Commander slammed his huge fist down onto the tabletop. Cutlery shook and wine glasses were knocked over. The Queen jumped.

"A day longer, perhaps less. I cannot rightly judge, I have not seen my daughter and do not know the power of the magic she used prevailing over your men."

"My guards tell me the little witch already uses her magic, just this afternoon. She summoned a light to lead her to the slave quarters where the soldiers are being kept."

The Queen tried to keep her expression of disinterest steady. She laid down her fork, pushed her plate away. "Commander, if my daughter was able to awaken a light companion even after her revelation of power in the forest, do not be deceived. A loyal wisp is a great deal easier to manage than breaking magical bonds set by someone else."

"Even if that someone else was her sister?"

"DG will have no trouble opening the casket containing the Emerald for you, Commander. But, I doubt her conscience would allow it of her. A great deal of trouble and sacrifice went into hiding and retrieving it. She will feel a very deep connection, and will not pass it off easily."

The Commander studied his guest from across the table. He stood, walked around the table to her chair, and stood over her. "We will see what DG will and won't do. Tomorrow."

"My daughter is not a cowering, crying child who can be bullied into doing what you tell her to do," the Queen said firmly. "She is a Gale, and she is a good girl. Do not try to force her or bend her will. You won't get the results you expect at all that way."

"Your Majesty," he said, running a finger down the side of her face. The Queen tried not to pull away from the unexpected touch. "I am not a barbarian, I will not try to _force_ your daughter into anything. Coercion can be much more effective, especially against emotional humans."

He left her chamber then, his meal unfinished. The door was locked behind him, and she was left alone. The Queen stood from the table, seeking out a more comfortable spot. Dining with the outlander was taxing, and she was exhausted. She wondered if she might find rest that night.

Tomorrow, the Commander would find that DG could not be _coerced_ easily. Tomorrow he would find that, though the girl's magic was strong, she had little control, and would be no match for the Emerald. The Queen wondered how long it would be until he discovered that the only answer lay with both daughters. The outlander was determined to keep them separated.

The Queen unpinned her hair, laid down on the bed. _DG, Azkadellia, my darlings_, she thought. But she was weak, tired, and fell asleep almost immediately.


	14. Chapter Fourteen

**Author's Note**: Thank you to all my readers, reviewers, and subscribers.**  
**

* * *

**Of Light  
**

**Chapter Fourteen**

* * *

_- The Underground Complex -_**  
**

* * *

DG did not eat the meal that was set before her in her room at supper time. She found herself eying the strange food suspiciously, even though her stomach rumbled. She was _hungry_, but couldn't bring herself to even prod the steamed and boiled mush in front of her with her fork.

After her unemptied dishes had been cleared away and she'd been left alone once more, DG left her room to wander the hallways, seeking access to the second level, where her mother and sister seemed to be held. But every door she came across, every elevator had the same strange electronic lock. To stop her and anyone else from the lower levels ascending, perhaps to where there was a door to the surface, a way out. Trapped.

She memorized the layout of the third level, in the hours following supper. Most doors she tried were unlocked, and she peeked into a few rooms. She found chambers like hers, dismal and heavily furnished. She found the guards' residence, where human guards leered at her in the corridors. Leaving the barracks behind quickly, she walked the third level until she could rightly predict what came around the next corner.

DG was getting tired by the time she descended to the fourth level. Here there were fewer soldiers, and more human slaves. A laundry, the kitchens, and a supply locker that rivaled the size of her private sitting room at Finaqua. "This, I can use," she said to herself, as her eyes drank in shelves and cupboards and barrels of everything that kept the complex running.

On her second walk by the kitchens, a few of the cooks greeted her.

"What are you doing all the way down here, dearie?" asked a fat woman, up to her elbows in dishwater.

"I'm just trying to learn my way around," DG told the woman. She was offered a few slices of fresh bread, and she gobbled it gratefully, looking around the massive kitchen.

"I don't see the point in that. You'll be leaving before you could get the layout of the whole fortress nailed down in your brain," the cook pointed out.

DG looked at her curiously. "Does everyone know that the Commander is releasing us?"

The woman nodded her head. "Yes, Miss. We've all got our orders, and we'll be packing up and heading back over the mountains as soon as the Commander's business in the Outer Zone is complete."

"What exactly is his business in my mother's kingdom?" DG asked.

"Oh, it's not for any of us way down here to say," the woman said thoughtfully. "The Commander's plans are quite confidential. We are just here to keep the complex running during the mission. Ask no questions and they don't crush your tongue."

DG's eyes widened, and her stomach churned when she saw the woman wasn't joking. "Were you born in the Outer Zone?" DG asked the woman, after a moment of shocked silence. The woman nodded, her jaw tight.

"My father was an officer of the Northern Guild," the woman said. DG thought she might have detected a hint of pride in the statement, but it was hard to tell with the woman's increasingly gruff demeanor. DG realized she was overstaying her welcome, making the kitchen staff nervous. Looking around, she noticed most were watching her, concerned. Perhaps thinking her presence might bring down unwanted attention from the higher-ups.

She made an excuse about being tired, and left the kitchens. Catching on, she noticed most of the servants – _slaves_, she reminded herself – were watching her cautiously, not with reverence but with trepidation. She realized she didn't like it any better than servants at her mother's palace, tripping all over themselves to please her. She wondered where those quiet, empty hallways she'd found that afternoon had gone to.

She found the access door to the stairwell leading down to the fifth level, where Cain and the rest of the soldiers were being kept like dogs in a kennel, waiting for their owners to come and get them. It made her upset, and uneasy, to know that he was down that stairwell.

_He probably doesn't want to see me, anyway._

She'd return in the morning, down to the fifth level. She already had a plan, and Cain's cell wasn't the only one that she was thinking off. But the morning... how late was it getting? No one in the O.Z. wore a wristwatch that she'd ever seen, and there was no handy man-with-pocket-watch lingering around the next bend in the passage.

Giving up her exploration, she returned to the third level, and her room.

DG didn't like how heavily Cain weighted on her mind. A little ridiculous, like a schoolgirl crush, to be thinking about him so constantly. She should be thinking about her mother and sister, trying to pry the second-level door off with her bare hands.

Cain, and his kiss.

She had to admit, she'd hoped it was coming. The morning Cain had left Finaqua, she'd hoped. The entire first week after the Eclipse, shut up in the embassy, he'd made sure to see her every day. Her own feelings boiled inside of her, heart leaping every time he would catch her eye, long, heated, sultry looks. Standing off to the side, a quiet, pervasive presence; and, against common sense, she'd believed it possible.

But nothing _happened._ He would never approach her, always waiting for her to seek _him _out. Then, her family left for Finaqua and he had stayed behind in Central City, reestablishing the Queen's law within the walls of the city.

It took her a long time to find her way back to her room; the distraction of Wyatt Cain proved too much for the maze of corridors. The practiced path of the hedge maze was one thing, this new location was entirely different. By the time she finally found her way, she was in danger of reliving his kiss.

_Stop it,_ she told herself firmly. She was ashamed of herself for falling into his arms so easily, perhaps, after the way she'd been treated. Missing him too much to be mad at him, crying and frustrated... _That's all. Just a moment of weakness..._

_Yeah right, you keep telling yourself that, Deege._

At that moment, she missed Azkadellia, and her heart cried out.

Almost a mile of stair and corridor away, Az felt DG's despair. It hit her in a curious way, a sensation completely new, and she didn't totally understand it. Her sister was upset, but... not in danger. Az tried her magic on the doorknob once again, then tried it physically, trying the knob until her hand hurt. She kicked it for good measure, and turned around. She stalked the room like a lion in a cage.

A few minutes later, a maid appeared at the door. Azkadellia rolled her eyes; the guards had mistaken her kick on the door as a request for a servant. "Just knock on the door and the guards will send for someone to serve you," the little girl in the patchwork dress had told her after the Commander's violent visit the day before. "We are here to attend your every need during your stay."

The woman in the doorway now looked nervous. "Yes, your Highness?" she asked.

Az was about to send the slave away when a sudden thought struck her. "Yes, I am lonely. I would like you to have the guards bring Captain Cain to my room. Immediately." Her tone was harsh, and the woman cringed, curtsied, retreated, muttering to herself, "Cain... Cain." The door was shut and locked. Az grumbled to herself.

"A good princess treats her people with kindness," she berated herself aloud, remembering the words spoken to her by her mother when she was a child. It would do no good to bark and boss people around, to have them terrified of even facing her. The face of the Witch, even with no sorceress behind it, did that well enough without the attitude.

There was a thin robe in the wardrobe, and she threw it on over her nightdress. She didn't have the time or the energy to situate herself into one of the confining gowns in the closet. She sat down uneasily on the sofa, ultimately regretting her decision.

Pounding in the hallway made her jump to her feet again. The door was unlocked, thrown open, and a scruffy looking boy was shoved unceremoniously into the room; he landed on his knees.

"Here he is then," the guard said. He shut the door behind him.

Azkadellia stared down at the young man on the carpet before her. "Who are you?" she asked, confused.

He looked up at her. The youthfulness of his features did nothing to mask the darkness in his eyes; eyes that had seen too much for too long. The glare of a Resistance fighter, she'd come across it again and again, and every time, their eyes burned into her. As did the young man's now. He didn't respond to her.

"I requested Captain Cain," she said shortly.

He smiled, and stood slowly. He moved tenderly; she knew he'd seen rough treatment by the guards. She felt instantly sorry, but her confusion held her in check.

"Ahh, you wanted the good captain," he said with a laugh. He was standing straight, inches between them in height, though his imposing presence dwarfed her. The young man bowed his head to her. "I am only lowly Jeb Cain, his son. At your service." He was mocking her.

Her face hardened. "How did you get here?" she asked. "You were not with our group."

Jeb Cain laughed. "No, I was part of your sister's escort. We met the same untimely fate."

She was silent; she watched warily. She'd been told by DG that Wyatt Cain had a son, a leader in the Resistance, but she'd never imagined him to be so young; someone older, practiced, perhaps. "Have you spoken to your father since coming here?" she asked him, uncomfortable with the way he was watching her.

"No," he said, his eyes leaving her. "I might have asked you the same thing."

She shook her head. "I only have the word of the Commander that the men are even still alive."

Jeb smirked. "Most of them are."

Azkadellia closed her eyes. She didn't want to hear about more death. She moved to the sofa, and sat down. Jeb took a few steps closer, studying the floor, fists on his hips. She heard the toe of his boot scuff the floor. After a moment, he spoke. "What about DG? Have they let you see her?"

Azkadellia shook her head. "No, one of the maids informed me of her arrival, but I have yet to see her."

She watched him as he slowly walked a circle around the room. His fingers touched the furniture, eyes drinking in the heavy draperies, the dark and depressing fabrics. Like the Commander had, but every gesture of Jeb's was infinitely human. She dropped her gaze quickly when he noticed her watching.

"Who is this Commander you spoke of?" he asked quietly after a moment. He moved closer to the sofa, so she might whisper and he might hear. The guards outside could be listening, probably were.

Azkadellia's voice dropped low. "He is the leader of this militant group. They are outlanders, though most of their force number humans. Outlanders are scarce these days, abroad as well as in the O.Z."

"What do they want?"

"The Emerald."

"Why?"

Azkadellia shook her head. "I don't know. My Light was too weak to break the seal on the box that contains the stone. At Finaqua, maybe I might have been able to, but here, in this dark place, under this stress... it didn't happen. So they kidnapped DG." Guilt was evident in her voice.

Behind her, Jeb gave a quiet laugh. She turned to him. "What do you find so funny?" she asked, sounding quite appalled.

"Oh... well, they didn't exactly kidnap your sister, is all."

Az's head quirked to the side. "What do you mean?"

"She launched her own search party from Finaqua," he told her. "We were halfway to where you'd disappeared, or almost. Outlanders attacked, but she overpowered the group of them with magic."

Az's eyes widened. "DG did that? By _herself_?"

Jeb nodded, a little half-smile on his face. "Whatever she did took a lot out of her. She passed out right after. With her unconscious, didn't take the outlanders more than five seconds to beat me and the other guy. Blindfolded us, brought us here."

There was silence again after that. Az wanted to be proud of her little sister, but something about what Jeb had told her worried her. Had her sister really been able to wield that much magic, so soon? _Poor DG is probably drained dry,_ she thought. _No wonder the Commander hasn't been here for the Emerald yet._

When he did, she'd have to relinquish it. The Commander couldn't take the box by force from her. She didn't know what she was going to do when he asked her to hand it over.

"Are they treating you well here?" she asked him after she couldn't take the silence and his pacing any longer. Watching him tread the same paths she'd been walking for the last two and a half days was upsetting, like reliving horrible memories. She dared a look at his face, tried to see past the bruise under his eye, the cut on his lip.

Jeb smirked. "I've been treated worse. The beating I got when they were putting me in the iron suit, that was worse than this." He'd said it pointedly, like a jab at her. She didn't like it.

"I'm sorry," she said softly. She watched the floor, could feel his eyes on her. Burning eyes, resistance eyes. She got up, walked to the door, and knocked a few times. A guard opened it almost immediately.

"You can take him back," she said. "I want you to send up the warden who is looking after my men. I'd like a word with him about how her Majesty's soldiers are being treated."

She thought she caught him smile at her as he was marched out by the guards.

* * *

_- The Underground Complex -_

* * *

_The halls were a flurry of activity that gave her a funny, panicked feeling in her chest. She ran back to her room, only to find a young girl packing her belongings into bags. Not her belongings, nothing here was hers. The things that were given to her by Roke. Anything she wanted, he provided._

"_What are you doing?" she asked the girl. It took a moment before she realized the dirty thing before her was the girl whom she had shared a cell with below. Weeks had done much to change her perspective on things, already feeling a step above this girl who was merely a slave._

"_Miss Dorothy," the girl said, voice shaking. No eye contact was made. "The order has been issued to make ready to leave this complex. We leave the Outer Zone today."_

_She shook her head, tore from the room. Her shoes pounded the cement floor, the metal of the stairs clanged, reverberated off the narrow walls. She opened his office door without knocking._

"_We are to leave today?" she asked, trying to keep her voice steady. If he took her away from here, she'd never find her way home._

"_Yes, my pretty," Roke said. He was shoveling papers into a satchel. "You and I travel to the Shining City tonight to deliver the Emerald to old King Pastor. Then we cross the western province to the borders. A week's journey, we will be home."_

"_Not home," she said, shaking her head. She sat down in the chair in front of his desk. The Emerald glinted at her from its open box on the desktop. He caught her watching it._

"_Pastor's scholars have confirmed it is the jewel he seeks. He's offering a copious amount of platinum for it. His money doesn't concern me, however. I've come away from this trip into the O.Z. quite wealthier than when I left." His eyes glittered at her, their complete blackness reflecting the Emerald. She knew he spoke directly of her, her addition to his collection, as it were._

"_The Emerald of the Eclipse," she said, the words tumbling reverently off her tongue. She didn't know exactly what Pastor wanted with the Emerald, but she knew this jewel would shape the future of his country. Her eyes didn't leave the tiny, mesmerizing stone. Roke watched her intently. _

"_Would you like to hold it before we hand it over, Dorothy? You've been eyeballing it for weeks now."_

_She looked up at him with a smile, one of the few she managed now. "May I?"_

_He nodded. _

_She reached over and delicately picked up the gem. She cradled it in her palm; it felt warm... warmer? It was heating up from within, sitting in her hand. She looked at it curiously, as the light inside of it intensified, then exploded in a brilliant burst of green, obscuring everything except the burning in her hands..._

DG sat up screaming, a cry of misery and pain. The door flew open, and the guards stumbled in, surprised, guns hoisted, only to find the princess sitting up in her bed, screaming! A sound that echoed down every hallway, seeped under every door throughout the complex. Agonized, tormented, the scream erupted...

Two floors below, Wyatt Cain looked up in the darkness. Faint, far off, someone cried out in pain.

_What the hell was that?_


	15. Chapter Fifteen

**Author's Note**: Thank you to all my readers, reviewers, and subscribers._  
_

* * *

**Of Light_  
_**

**Chapter Fifteen**

* * *

_- The Underground Complex -**  
**_

* * *

It was near midnight when she'd finally stopped shaking. The nightmare had her nerves completely jolted, worse than anything she'd ever felt. Her screams had subsided as her vision cleared, as her mind awoke, as she realized four people were staring down at her absolutely dumbstruck, no one even willing to reach out and shake her. She felt embarrassed, but... it had _hurt_. Like her hands had caught fire, been plunged into acid, had the skin peeled off.

DG chased the maids and guards from her room. "Sorry! Bad dream! Everything is fine!"

Leaning against the door, breathing hard, she stared at her hands; they looked about the same as they always had. They didn't even hurt anymore, once she was out of bed, moving around, distracted for that crucial moment to break the dream's grasp.

Dorothy had touched the Emerald, and everything had disappeared in flashes of green and white.

She was unsettled, and her heart was pounding. She waited in the silence of her room for her breathing to slow, to return to normal. By the time she was finally feeling her body calm down, her mind had set itself on a new course. She didn't put her slippers on, nursing a blister on her ankle from their new stiffness; she didn't even bother looking for a robe. In her nightdress, sleek and black, she left her room. The guard outside watched her walk down the corridor without a word.

She found her way easily, without summoning a light, though she assumed there might be a faster way than the one she had walked previously. When she reached the fifth level, she found only two guards sitting at a table, playing a game of cards. She walked past them, not glancing to the side, not seeing that they stared at her, open-mouthed. She turned a corner, stood in front of Cain's cell. Waving a hand over the lock, she heard it click. When she'd slipped in, she waved her hand again and locked herself inside.

Wyatt Cain had jumped to his feet at her sudden arrival. He watched her carefully as she leaned back against the heavy door, a hand over her heart.

"What are you doing here?" he asked.

DG only shook her head. "I couldn't stay by myself."

"What makes you think that they're gonna let you stay down here?"

She shrugged. "Does it really matter where I am?"

"Well, I'm not the one that gets to decide that, DG," was all he said.

"Could you just... not do that for a while?" she asked him. It was dark, and she couldn't see him.

"Do what?"

"You just... rain. On everything. If I had a parade, you'd be right in there with your clouds and rain," she said. It sounded petulant and she knew it. But the sound of her own voice, even as testy and tired as it was, was better than silence. Though even his company was a comfort, a conversationalist he wasn't.

After a moment, she heard him sit down on the edge of the cot. "So why can't you stay by yourself?" he asked her.

She stayed standing in the middle of the room, feeling more and more like a fool with every passing second. "I've been having dreams... unpleasant ones."

"Nightmares, you mean?"

She nodded, then gave a quiet "Yes," when she realized he couldn't see her in the dark. She walked slowly forwards, found the low cot in the darkness with her shins. She turned, and sank down beside him.

"I have dreams about people I've never met before, people who are gone... places that I've never been. I'm tired of my head being someone else's playing field. I wish I knew what was going on," DG said.

"You know, Princess," he said slowly, "you can't always assume that every dream you have is going to mean something."

"No," she said with a small, quiet laugh. "This means something."

"And you're left alone to figure it all out, no breadcrumbs?" His query was soft. Then he chuckled. "So you come to find me."

"Its not _so_ bad, is it?" she asked, after a moment.

"No, not so bad."

Silence. Cain's leg pressed against hers, comforting with its warmth. His bare arm brushed hers, skin against skin. She felt it pulling, like a knot in her stomach. Nervous butterflies, silly little spasms. She searched her brain frantically for something to say... talking would be a distraction, this tension made her want to jump up and run.

_Or you could do something about it._

Cain had been expecting it, the touch of her cold fingers on his arm. He exhaled deeply, letting his head fall back; somewhere in the darkness, the ceiling was above him. She ran her fingers down his arm, tickling him softly, until she found his hand, entangled her fingers with his. DG pulled his hand into her lap, absently stroking his fingers.

"Do you know what you're doing?" he asked her.

"Not really," she responded, and in her voice he could hear her smiling. _Smiling_, and caressing his hand like that. It had been a long time since he'd felt as unhinged as this. He didn't like what she was doing to him in this place. This was not where he would choose to get caught with his trousers down... so to speak.

_But would it really have mattered, Wyatt? You knew the minute you slowed down, she'd catch up._

He'd run from her, avoided her. Refused to even write her, since she'd left Central City. But now here she was, seeking him out in the dark, and he doubted he could manage to get away. It felt like a trap, and he was reluctant to let her catch him with his guard down.

He turned slightly towards her, with his free hand reaching out and cupping her shoulder. "DG," he said, her name rolling quietly, smoothly off his tongue.

"Stop talking," she commanded, sensing his hesitancy. Bossing him like a spoiled princess. He let go of her shoulder, grabbed her around the waist, pulled her into his lap. She gasped with surprise at the spontaneous shift in position. "Cain," she said, uncertainty making her voice waver. He pulled her closer, her hip pressing into his stomach. She turned her torso towards him, arms encircling his neck.

"Shh," was all he managed before finding her mouth with his own. His whisper was lost in the deep kiss, her tongue immediately seeking his. A muffled grunt escaped her as he tightened his embrace, one hand near her neck, the other on the small of her back, he held fast.

Heat coursed through DG's veins, replacing the blood that had been there so long. His skin was warm, firm beneath her hands... human contact, was she only feeling deprived? Holding herself steady on his shoulders, she shifted, maneuvering a leg between them to straddle his lap. Her nightdress rode up her hips, slippery fabric sparking green in the dark. She lost his mouth, gasping for breath as his lips pressed against her neck, teeth nipping her skin.

Cain's arm circled her waist, yanking her hips down, pressing her into his lap. The pressure between her legs caused her to inhale sharply, her head falling back. His hands ran up her sides, finding her breasts, warm, soft mounds clothed in silky fabric. She arched her back at the touch, lifting up; he lowered his head, caught a nipple between his teeth. DG hummed low in her throat, lowering herself, guiding his face upwards. She caught his mouth with hers, lips lingering against his, not moving.

His hands slid down her back, lifting her nightdress off her hips. Warm fingers gripped the swells of her ass, pulling her hips down again. He didn't find any underwear, chuckled to himself. "This was a trap," he said after a moment, growling low and squeezing her warm flesh.

"No," she said with a quiet giggle. "I just didn't pack very well for this trip."

Cain pressed against her again, and she could feel him hard between her legs. DG became quite aware just how little separated them. She could barely think straight, only sensations of heat and passion making their way into her brain, muddling her ability to think. His lips captured hers again, sucking slowly on her bottom lip as he released her. She moaned.

He heard it before she did, the heavy footsteps in the hall. Groaning, he held her tight around the waist again, and stood, lowering her to her feet. By the time she found her footing, she could hear it too, guards coming down the hall. The door was tried, found locked. Muffled voices came next.

"Don't run," he whispered in the dark. "It'll make you look guilty."

Next to him, she snorted a laugh. He could hear her straightening her nightgown. A quick shift made his own condition a little less obvious, and he thought about carnage, the iron suit, fishing with his father as a boy, to abate his problem. The guards bursting in the next second helped immensely.

The guard who stepped into the room glared at them. "I'm here to escort the young lady back to her quarters."

DG caught Cain's eye as she walked out of the room, her first look at him since the tiny glimpse she'd gotten when she'd slipped into his cell. The corner of his mouth was turned up in an unimpressed kind of way, but when he saw her looking, his mouth twitched ever so slightly – it could almost have been a smile, just for a fleeting moment.

The guard reached for DG's arm, but she yanked it out of his reach. Scowling, he snatched at her again, catching her and gripping her tight. "Hey, ow," she muttered under her breath as she was half-marched, half-dragged back down the hallway. Behind her, she heard a dull thud, and the sound of a body hitting the floor. "Wait!" she called out, trying to stop, but the guard held her, pulling her along.

_You can't attack him, _she told herself firmly. _You can't use your magic. You can't attack him_. She recited this mantra to herself the entire way back to her room.

"The Commander suggests you get some sleep, your Highness," the guard said when he finally released her arm, up in her chamber. "He bids you wait for him in the morning."

The guard stalked out, and though he didn't lock the door, DG knew she was as good as under house arrest.

She didn't sleep. She sat and thought, tried to remember everything she could about her nightmare, but already it was patchy, a puzzle with missing pieces. Thoughts of Cain kept nudging their way in, but she pushed them away guiltily, hoping desperately they hadn't continued to beat him after she'd been removed.

After a while, she bathed, dressed, then sat down again on the sofa. In her agitated state, the bed made her nervous; the canopy was too oppressive.

For hours, she sat and watched the door. When she glanced over at the clock, it read nearly six, finally morning. The suns would be rising, somewhere in the land above her head where life still presumably went on. A land that could be over the rainbow now, for all it mattered.

She waited for the Commander.

A maid brought her tea, and sat with her, across the room, barely a presence.

She thought of home, Kansas. Hank and Emily. The palace at Finaqua; her father. Ambrose.

Were they being searched for? Of course, that wasn't even a question.

_How well is this place hidden, that they haven't found us yet? The general... Andrus. He's loyal to my mother, he wouldn't stop until we were found. Glitch wouldn't let him stop. And Raw, he'll know we're still safe. Wherever we are, in this darkness. Buried in the ground. They'll never find us._

DG tried so hard to comfort herself in her head, but always, her paths of intention turned to places she didn't want to go. Paths of fear, of depression, and of common sense. Skeptic's path... Cain's path.

_I could use another kiss for courage_, she thought with a smile.

Second sunrise... somewhere.

Too long... she'd been here too long.

An hour more, she paced. She stayed barefoot, the shoes in the wardrobe too small for her feet. In a sudden burst of impatience, she opened the door, and faced the guard in the hallway.

"Take me to the Commander's office."

"I can't do that, your Highness," the guard said. He was human, and young. He might not have graduated high school yet on the Other Side. Not the guard who had hauled her upstairs.

She chided herself for being imperious, tried to soften her tone. She was finding it increasingly easier to make demands, act the part given to her, and it bothered her. She'd been taught her manners, hadn't she? "I want to see him, I have something I would like to discuss."

"We are under no circumstances to take you to the second level," the guard said apologetically. Honestly, aside from the hulking outlanders, their human slaves weren't that bad. All loyal to the royal family of the O.Z. perhaps, once upon a time. But this boy looked like he'd only ever known the tyranny of the Witch.

"Well," DG said slowly, "can I send for the Commander?"

The guard nodded. "I'll go right away, my lady."

DG smiled at him. "Thank you," she said, and closed the door.

A half-hour later, the outlander stood before her.

"You seem unrested, Princess," he said, by way of a greeting. "Did you not sleep well?"

DG knew he was feigning concern. The maid had told her that her scream had been heard in most corners of the complex. How that was even possible she didn't know, but it had been quite a while since she'd trusted what she knew, save one thing. She knew she had to get them all out of there.

"Why did Dorothy Gale banish the outlanders from the Outer Zone?"

The Commander nodded slowly. "Go study your history books. They will tell you all you need to know... what the Gale deemed fit to be told, that is."

DG set her mouth in a thin line, straightening her shoulders. But the outlander just laughed at her.

"You will get no bedtime stories out of me, little princess. We do not seek to destroy your family, as your mother has been so fond of reciting. We only want what is rightfully ours, and you and your family can go. No hard feelings."

"What is rightfully yours?" DG asked, confused. Then, slowly, an image crept into her mind; a tiny, glowing stone. "The Emerald," she said quietly. Her fingers tingled.

The Commander nodded.

"I can't give it to you, Azkadellia is its Keeper."

"Ahh, Azkadellia," the Commander said, with a shake of his head and a sly smile. "Your sister, it seems, isn't strong enough to open the seal on the box containing the stone."

"How is that possible? She's the one who _placed_ the seal." The Commander only stared at her, a black glare that made her uncomfortable. "Wait... let me guess," she said, realization dawning. "This is where I come in?"

The outlander nodded.

"Even if I can open the box, I'm not the one that can hand the stone over. I'm not its Keeper. Az..." DG said, trailing off with the thought of her sister. She may have fetched the Emerald from its hiding place, but Az was the one who had _used _it. She was the Keeper, to hold the stone until it was returned to the Gale, the true guardian. Azkadellia would never relinquish the stone, of that DG was sure...

Almost sure.

"Don't you worry your pretty little head about it," the Commander told her.

"What makes you think I can do what Azkadellia can't?"

The Commander laughed. "You are the girl who forced three outlanders to kneel in supplication. We who bow to _no one_, and you brought them down before you."

DG shook her head. "Why do you want the Emerald?"

"The reason the Emerald interests me is none of your concern. You need not worry about it, the power of the stone doesn't tempt me. The Gales' need for the Emerald has come to an end."

"What if I won't do it?"

The Commander looked cynically at her, shifting on his feet. "Let's not play games, Princess. You want to go home. You want to see your parents again, your sister?"

DG nodded, staring at him with wide, blue eyes. He stepped closer, and she willed herself not to take a step backwards. He leaned down, whispering, "And you want the soldier downstairs... the 'Tin Man', is that what they call them? You want him to make it out of here alive, don't you?"

She stepped back then, angry. No one was going to threaten to take things away from her, play with the lives of those she loved. Not _again_, she wouldn't let it happen.

"We can stay here a very, _very _long time_,_" the Commander continued. "In no fear of your army finding you and rescuing you. You are here until you do what I want, and I can be very, _very_ patient."

He turned and left, the door slammed behind him. DG jumped at the sound.

_You are here until you do what I want._

For her to break Az's seal. For Az to hand over the Emerald. And then, they'd be free.

She wanted her mother's guidance. But it didn't seem this was all some subtle, intricate plan woven by memory and magic. The mess she was in was solely her fault. No one dragged her into the forest, and when they were found by outlanders, it had been what she'd wanted, in that 'be careful what you wish for' kind of way.

But they would have come for her anyway, being in the forest had only sped up the process.

_They would have come for you. He needs your Light to get to the Emerald._

She didn't know enough about the Emerald. She needed Glitch, and his brilliant, brainy former self. Glitch, who always had known the answers or had asked the right questions when he hadn't.

Ambrose might eventually devise where to find them, but when or _if_ that might happen, she had no idea.

DG fell down onto the bed, buried her face in the pillows. He'd return soon. Maybe with the Emerald, maybe with her sister _and_ the Emerald. Maybe not at all... she just didn't know.


	16. Chapter Sixteen

**Author's Note**: Thank you to all my readers, reviewers, and subscribers._  
_

* * *

**Of Light**

**Chapter Sixteen**

* * *

_- The Underground Prison -_**  
**

* * *

Cain was braced for just about anything, but nothing came from the guard except an ugly smirk. His partner was dragging DG out into the hallway, down towards the stairs.

The man leaned in close; the guard was a few inches shorter than him, Cain watched him with an amused smirk.

Cain stayed silent, fighting down urges to smash the man's face with his elbow; in a swift – and a little bit lucky – move, he might be able to grab the man's rifle... but then what? Calculating, he studied the guard's grip on his weapon; lax and insecure.

"How does she taste?" the guard lewdly asked.

_Oh, wrong move_.

Acting on reflex, he turned and landed his fist on the guard's jaw; as the man's head snapped to the side, Cain reached out and grabbed the rifle. He brought the firearm down between the shoulder blades, knocking the man to the floor, unconscious.

"Wait!" Cain heard DG shout from the hallway. But in the next second, he heard the heavy door at the end of the passage open and close. Kneeling down, he removed keys and an automatic handgun from the guard's belt.

Crouching against the wall, he checked the hallway. Clear. He had to move fast.

The passage cut east at both ends. The cell next to his was empty, the door wide open. And the next. But around the corner, a door was closed, and locked. Cain rapped it hard twice with his gun, found the key that unlocked it. Private Burrows was pushing his long frame off the cot, squinting in the light.

"Captain!" he exclaimed, shocked, when he saw Cain.

Cain tossed him the rifle. "Let's go, we've got to get out of here."

Banging on closed doors with his fist, he found the rest of his men. Corporal Hass, Private McLauren, and finally his son, Jeb. Jeb was the only one who hadn't been sleeping, was sitting up at his table, looking bored and tired, and completely unsurprised that his father had just arrived to spring him from jail. Cain couldn't help but smile when he saw his son.

Jeb stood up. "Took you long enough," he said with a grin.

Cain shrugged. "Had to wait for the perfect opportunity," he replied. He closed and locked the door behind his son. Perhaps even something as simple as making everything look like nothing had changed with buy them minutes, maybe longer.

The group doubled back, heading for the stairs. When the captain explained that there was a guard unconscious in his cell, the men didn't need to ask any more. And hey, winging it was always fun. _Gods help us._

As they turned the corner, the stairway access door was opened. Through it came the gruff old caretaker, though... _not _him, somehow; the man walking upright toward them, the hunch of the back and shoulders gone. "No, no!" he shouted at them, waving his hands at them, trying to shoo them back.

Cain stood up straight, shook his head. "Out of the way, old man. We're getting out of here, and you'd best be movin'," Cain said. Feeling no malice towards the man, not wanting to drag him into a mess. If he simply found somewhere else to be, it would be like he'd never even seen them.

The old man, however, had other plans. "No, I'm afraid I can't allow you to leave. You gentlemen will have to return to your cells. Now, before the guards come back."

Cain stared at him, dumbstruck by the old man's boldness. "Who are you?"

"Jowan," the old man said shortly. "Your caretaker. We have met before, sir. Did the guard hit you first?"

"Not exactly," Cain said, waving him off. "Let's go, men." He waved the men behind him forward. He shoved past the old man, heaved open the door, and held it open for his soldiers.

"Captain," he heard Jowan's voice call after him. The old man hadn't turned around, leaving his back to Cain. "Did you know that he can simply _take_ the Emerald at any time by killing the Princess Royal?" Cain didn't have to take a guess at who _he_ was, but this harmless old man speaking so plainly about such dangerous things put him on his guard. This was obviously someone he'd underestimated.

Cain glared at Jowan, standing straight, back turned. Too calm, too prepared. Jowan continued to speak. "He bears no hostility to the royal family. True to his word, he will release you all. But if you continue on this foolish path, he will kill you, and your soldiers, and the three ladies... as soon as he has that box open."

Cain stood, holding the door open, studying the old man. Jeb stepped up behind him, whispered in his ear. "Father, we can make it out of here. Find the princesses, the Queen. I've seen the second level, I can find us the way out."

"Oh I assure you, boy," Jowan said, "you won't. Not even all my listening and observing has obtained me the security codes for the higher levels. Or for the exit. You lead your men to their deaths, and the to deaths of the last of the Gale line if you leave here."

"Who _are _you?" Jeb asked. He'd certainly had enough of the man's cryptic attitude.

"Just a slave, sir," Jowan said with a little bow. He loosened his spine, hunched over, wiped his face blank; he had become once again the old caretaker. "Just a slave loyal to the Gale family."

"Father," Jeb said, "we have to go."

"You kill the Queen, boy! The Sorceress, _and_ the little princess. You kill them all with your stupidity!" Jowan barked. He started to walk away, finished with them, uttering a small, quiet bah and a wave of his hands. Done.

Cain bowed his head, rolled his eyes. He couldn't believe what he was about to do. "Men, follow him. Back to your cells."

Jeb looked at him angrily. "What are you _doing_? This is our chance to escape!"

Cain shook his head, looked hard at his son. Jeb's eyes were dark, turbulent. "No, this is our chance to fail in our mission to protect the royal family. We've pretty much screwed up everything up until now, but I've got a feelin' this is the one that's gonna count."

Jeb gave an angry sigh, and was the first one to follow the old man.

Ten minutes later, the other men and his son locked grumbling into their cells, Jowan helped Cain pull the unconscious guard out of his cell. They left him in the hallway.

"You have saved your life, and theirs," Jowan reassured him when leaving. "You never would have found the way out. No little dog leading the way this time."

"Who _are_ you?" Cain asked. It seemed, however unlikely, that they had a friend in this dark place. Or maybe Cain was just about the biggest jackass in the history of the Zone, tricked back into his cell by a superannuated janitor.

The old man shook his head. "I will see you in the morning, Captain." He closed the door, locked it, leaving Cain in the dark. Cain sighed, found the cot, sat down. The adrenaline was abating, his heart slowing down, and he was noticing a dull ache in his shoulders. It occurred to him what he'd been doing in this spot less than an hour before.

Wyatt Cain groaned out loud in the dark. If she hadn't come to him, he never would have been offered the opportunity to escape... and then promptly unescape. She was under his skin now, in a way that she had never been before. Now she was a dangerous distraction... _One that might be fun to explore, once we're out of here._

He knew he'd have to send her away if she ever came down to him again, but he hoped she would have the common sense not to return.

* * *

_- The Underground Complex -_

* * *

After the Commander left DG's room, he marched a purposeful path. Ascending the stairs to the second level, unlocking the door, he went straight to the chambers of Azkadellia. When he had the door unlocked and thrown open, he found her sitting at her dining table, holding onto a cup of tea, paused midway between the saucer and her mouth.

"Commander," she said after a moment, placing the cup into the saucer, and lowering it to the table. She stood, tied closed the robe she wore on top of her night clothes. "To what do I owe the, um... pleasure of this visit?"

"Your sister is ready," he said quite firmly. "You will hand over the Emerald."

Azkadellia shook her head. "No."

The Commander smirked. "Don't be a fool, girl. I could snap your neck like a twig."

Azkadellia sighed. "Sir, you should not threaten me."

"I am tired of repeating the same courtesies and promises to you people," the Commander snapped. "I would _very much_ like it if you would hand the box over to me. I don't want to have to take it by force. I've gone to too much trouble to just kill you now."

She tried not to let his outright threats of death unnerve her, but she could feel herself beginning to shake. If she could only get to her sister...

"Do you ever think that I grow tired of the Outer Zone in this ancient, dilapidated base? Maybe I'd like to go back over the mountains to my _own_ home instead of mulling around here playing games with you."

Az was silent. She wouldn't let him sway her.

"Princess," the outlander said, his voice a rumble in his throat, "give me the Emerald."

Az closed her eyes at the words. The damn Emerald!

"DG won't be able to open the seal by herself," Az bluffed. "Both of us will have to do it."

The Commander looked instantly suspicious. He sat down across from her at the table, the chair groaning with his weight. "Oh? Both of you, you say. And why is that?"

Az tried to think of everything she'd ever overheard Tutor saying about DG. "She's unconditioned. My sister uses her energy improperly, and her power is too intermittent. Barely effective." Az felt guilty saying these things about her sister, no matter how perfectly true they might be. _Forgive me, Deege, _she thought.

"I thought, Highness, that it was the other way around. I thought _you_ were the... what did you say?... barely effective one." Az's face hardened, and she glared at him, trying not to let herself be provoked. "I think," the outlander continued, "that your sister will do just fine. Now hand over the box before I have to hurt you."

Azkadellia tried to slow her breathing. She didn't want to look scared, even though she was.

"Why must you women fight me?" the Commander demanded suddenly. Her silence, her inaction had enraged him. He was standing up, leaning on his arms with fists on the table, glaring at Azkadellia. She stood on shaking legs. "I promise you _freedom_! Not only from this fortress but from the power of your burden!"

"The Gales are the guardians of the Emerald!"

"The Gales are _thieves_!" he shouted. In one swift, terrifying move, the Commander flipped the table over, sending it flying across the room, crashing into the wall. Az cowered backwards, willing herself to stay on her feet, if nothing else.

The Commander walked the now-empty space between them in two easy steps. He caught Az's face between his fingers, squeezing her jaw as he stared into her dark eyes.

"This is your last chance, Azkadellia," he whispered, low and husky. "Say the words or I will choke the life out of you where we stand and not even the power of the Emerald will bring you back."

Az whimpered. His grip was tight, and his skin chafed against hers. She tried not to look into his black, black eyes, where she could see her terror-filled self reflected back. His fingers slid down, clasped her throat almost lovingly, stroking her skin. A tiny cry escaped her lips.

_Oh, gods. Please forgive me, Mother._

"Take it," she sobbed. "I release the Emerald to you."

A smile spread over the Commander's hard face, and he immediately let her go. She collapsed, a heap of skirt and hair and tears, at his feet.

"Where is it?" he asked softly. His voice might have soothed her, but with the toe of his boot he gave her a hard nudge on the leg.

Az pointed to the table beside the bed. The wooden chest sat on top, its lock glowing faintly. The Outlander turned, retrieved the box with little hesitance. When it was in his hands, he turned back to her and smiled a kind, immensely pleased smile.

"You will see your sister and your mother soon," he told her, and left her alone. The click of the lock echoed in her ears for a moment, before a fresh wave of tears swept over her, and she curled up against the wall in utter despair.

_What have I done?_

* * *

_- The Underground Prison -_

* * *

When Jeb Cain awoke, it was because old Jowan was shuffling into his cell with a tray, upon which sat a number of things that made Jeb sit up immediately with interest. Jowan was back to a bent-over posture, watching his feet as he scraped them along the floor.

"What's all this?" Jeb asked, taking the tray from the old man, and putting it on the table.

"Gifts from the Princess Royal."

"Azkadellia?"

The old man nodded. "Ripped a strip off the warden over her soldiers," Jowan said, and though Jeb couldn't see his face, he sounded amused. He turned to leave. "And just think, boy. If you'd taken off last night, you'd be dead now and wouldn't be enjoying these nice things. Oh, and you're to slide that razor under the door when you're done or the guards will shoot you."

The door was closed, and locked. Jeb lit the lamp and examined the bundle. A razor and soap, clean clothes.

Jeb smirked. All this because of Azkadellia... the Sorceress. Who would have known that kindness and compassion rested somewhere underneath her dark, icy exterior?

"Wait a minute," he whispered to himself, noticing something. He unfolded the clothes he had been given: sleeveless tunic, cargo pants... a freshly laundered mercenary uniform. _Interesting_. He remembered one of the stories his father had told him about the days after his release from the iron suit.

What had his father said? _Blending into the wallpaper_?

Jeb washed and shaved, gratefully thinking of Azkadellia as he did. Shaving without a mirror wasn't one of the easiest things in the world, and his face was nicked to hell when he was done, but still... the gratefulness was still their, inflated like a damn balloon.

Jeb obediently slid the razor under the door when he was finished. Changed into the clean clothes, and washed his dirty shirt in the sink. He hung the shirt to dry over the back of the chair, extinguished the lamp. He lay down on the cot, feeling better just to be clean, a little more aware and alert. Refreshed, however that was possible, residing as a prisoner in an enemy fortress.

He thought about Jowan, who'd managed him a uniform. Had he done the same for all the men, for his father?

_Perhaps Father was right, to order us to stay._

He stared at the ceiling in the dark, and waited.


	17. Chapter Seventeen

**Author's Note**: Thank you to all my readers, reviewers, and subscribers. A special thank you to KLCtheBookWorm for her continued help.

* * *

**Of Light  
**

**Chapter Seventeen**

* * *

_- The Underground Complex -**  
**_

* * *

_She ran. How she managed to make her legs work, she didn't know. How she found her way out of the complex, she didn't know. She had turned one corner and then the next blindly, some instinct pushing her ever forward. When she met a door she knew to be locked, it exploded off its hinges, leaving her with no obstacle._

_When she reached fresh air, it burned her lungs and renewed her energy. Hot pulses of pain in her hands followed her, though no one else pursued her. Running through the trees, scrambling through dense brush, everything she touched was singed black around the edges. A path for them to follow. After a while, she tried not to come into contact with anything._

_The Emerald was in her hands, glowing bright. How she hadn't dropped it, she didn't know. When she stopped at a stream to soak her hands, to try to abate the burning pain, she saw a curious thing. Slipping the Emerald into the pocket of her dress, she stared at her palm. She brushed her hand with the fingers of the other, wondering if the lines etched there might smudge like charcoal. A circle, with a swirling pattern within it. _

_Finally she crossed the path of another person. A woman with a child. "I need help," she barely managed to say, weak and exhausted and out of her mind with pain._

"_You must go to the Shining City," the woman told her. "You will find a road of bricks, and you must follow it."_

_Like beads of sweat, it dripped from her hands, slick and glossy. With a hiss, the substance would hit the ground, burn a little hole. She walked and walked, until finally she stumbled across it by accident. The most beautiful thing she had ever seen in her life, a yellow-brick road._

_So she followed. Over fields and through woods, endlessly she walked. She could see the city's glinting pinnacles in the suns' light... suns, there were_ two_. Of this she mourned. Wherever she was, she knew she wasn't supposed to be there. Finally, on her fifth day, exhausted and near death, she approached the gate of the city._

"_Who are you?" the gatekeeper asked her. _

"_Help me," she pleaded. "Please. It hurts! I need to see the king."_

"_No one can walk up and demand to see the _king, _girl. Not nobody, not no how."_

_She held up her hands, showing him the symbol on her palm, molten red, dug the Emerald out of her pocket. "I need... to see... the king."_

_The gatekeeper eyed the Emerald fearfully, before nodding at his companion. "Take the girl to see the king."_

DG's eyes slid open slowly, still exhausted. The words of her dream echoed in her head as she sat up, looking around groggily. Had she fallen asleep on the sofa? She barely remembered.

_Take the girl to see the king._

What was going on inside her head? She slapped her palms against her forehead, perhaps trying to force out the demons of another life. One that wasn't even hers! Her own memories creeping in through the cracks in her mind were one thing, the life of an ancestor was completely another.

"Get out, get out!" DG whispered to herself, slapping the side of her head again.

Another voice cut into her brain. A practical, deep voice. _You know, Princess, you can't always assume that every dream you have is going to mean something._

"Easy for you to say, Cain," she muttered to herself.

* * *

_- The Underground Complex -_

* * *

The Queen of the O.Z. was accustomed to being alone. Nine annuals of imprisonment had taught her well how to deal with fear, loneliness, boredom. She'd learned, also, how to deal with enemy interrogation, how to make her face so impassive, she might be dead.

The Witch, the terrible presence behind her daughter's attractive face. The Queen had sensed, long before Azkadellia had begun to mature into a woman, the evil in her child, but had never been able to disassociate the cruel words and actions from the lovely, graceful girl that would have been her daughter. _Azkadellia, my poor darling. You would have been so beautiful._

To lose DG, her husband had been terrible. But to sit and watch the distortion of her daughter, the deterioration of everything good inside, that had been nothing less than torture.

_Not everything good_. She'd noticed, in the days following the Eclipse, that some semblance of her daughter had remained hidden from the Witch's possession, a small piece of Azkadellia peeked out from behind dark eyes, quiet movements.

Just as the Witch had, the Commander kept her updated of his triumphs. He stood before her now, the small box containing the Emerald placed before her. The outlander was smiling, a very ugly thing. Barely a moment after he'd flashed that smile, producing the box with thinly veiled glee, she'd had to look away.

"Azkadellia has relented."

_I can see that._ "So the Emerald is now yours, Commander. You can release us."

A low chuckle. "Not quite yet. The box is still sealed."

"I'm afraid I can't help you with that, sir."

The Commander glared at her. The woman was difficult, too assured. "You can hope that your release comes quickly, Majesty. Your younger daughter may prove more of a challenge than the other."

"Both of my daughters are strong young women."

Again, the outlander laughed. "Azkadellia was easily convinced to help further my cause."

"If threatening a scared and broken girl with death can be considered _easily convinced._" The Queen was growing angry, something she rarely allowed herself. For this _outcast_ to be playing with their lives... outlanders were greedy and uncaring by nature, living in their isolated conclaves, fighting with each other over material wealth. Only personal gain mattered to an outlander, just as it did to the one before her.

"I go to your daughter now. If she complies quickly, you could be on your way upstairs within the hour, Majesty."

The Queen shook her head. "DG will fight you. You will not be able to convince her to help you. She only knows the Gale as the true guardian."

"This trinket needs no guardian! The time of the Eclipse is over. The Gales no longer need to safeguard this." The Commander tapped his finger on top of the little box. "What use have I for the power? None."

"But she will never believe you. Please, let me talk to my daughter –"

The Commander laughed scornfully. "I don't think so. You'll talk to your daughter soon enough. My slaves assigned to the princess's room tell me she has dreams, calls out very _interesting_ things. Perhaps death threats will not be the way to bring your daughter around... but who knows?" The Commander grinned wickedly. "I always enjoy a good fight."

"You're nothing more than a bully," the Queen said softly. "A monster delighting in frightening little girls."

He glared at her. "You will watch what you say," he said menacingly. The Queen tilted her chin upward defiantly.

"Your _Majesty_," he said after a moment. He walked closer to her, placed a hand on her shoulder. The Queen forced herself not to shirk away, to endure his cold touch. "The great Gale dynasty. _Daughters of Light_. A country built on a lie." He leaned in closer, his mouth close to her ear. "Remember, Locasta Lightless," he whispered. He ran a finger down the smooth skin of her neck; the scrape made her shiver. "You only retake the throne because I allow it."

The Queen steeled herself. "You will remember your place, sir."

The Commander laughed. "Oh, I remember my place. Lowly outlander, permitted to live only by the grace of the Gales. Only banished, instead of hunted down into our own lands and slaughtered."

The Queen shook her head. "Over a hundred years. Dorothy Gale is dead. Let it be at _peace_."

"Our two peoples shall never know _peace_," the Commander said. He moved away from the Queen, picked the box up off the table. "But this," he said, holding the box aloft, "will cancel out your debt."

* * *

_- The Underground Complex - _

* * *

DG was resting on the sofa, trying to go over again and again what details of her dream she could remember. Suddenly, the door burst open. Peeking out over the back of the sofa, she saw the Commander stalking in.

"What do you want?" she asked grumpily. Her eyes widened, and her heart stopped painfully in her chest when she noticed what he held in his massive hands. The tiny little box safeguarding the Emerald, sealed by magic. Even from across the room, she could see the faint glow of the lock.

"Open the box and you can go home. It's as simple as that."

He stalked over, placed the box on the coffee table before her. He sat down on the sofa opposite, and stared at her. DG could have laughed at the situation, two people sitting down so comfortably, if it weren't so serious. Part of her wanted to laugh anyway to crack this tension. But she stayed silent.

"Open the box, and you can _go home,_" he repeated.

"Why did Az give you the Emerald?" DG asked. She looked from the box, to the Commander, to the box again. "Did you hurt her?"

"Your sister seems to require a bit of a push in the right direction," the Commander said. "I'm hoping you aren't going to be as stubborn as her."

_Oh, you've got no idea._

DG curled her legs up towards her chest, trying to pull her body as far away from the Commander. He studied her in her silence. The box on the table was a disturbing distraction, and he caught her watching it.

"Do you ever wonder, little princess, the source of your great magic?"

DG watched him carefully. What was he trying to do? "My blood. Magic of Light, inherited from my mother."

"Did you know," he said slowly after a moment, "the history books omit the fact that your ancestor was a slipper?"

DG looked him curiously. "What?" The abrupt change in topic threw her offbalance. But it was true, she realised, she'd read it with her own eyes.

"Dorothy Gale, the first of your line," he said. "The King proclaimed her as heir to the throne. His own daughter had disappeared. Dorothy Gale; a girl with magic so strong, its essence flowed physically from her body. Only one possessing magic may occupy the throne of the Outer Zone."

DG looked down at the box again.

"But where," the Commander asked slowly, "where would such strong magic come from in an Other Sider?"

DG smirked, knowing exactly what he wanted her to say. Beginning to see things clearly, DG realized that another path had been set before her. Coincidence, it couldn't merely be just _coincidence. _She'd already been provided with all the answers she needed to face this outlander. "Wait a minute," she said with an impish smile. "Is it like in the land of Xanth? Did she just come up magic?"

The Commander looked at her, confused, and DG glared back at him with satisfaction. "Your family's magic comes directly from the Emerald. Like the throne on which your mother sits, it was not your birthright, it was _bestowed_ upon your family. Upon an ungrateful, deceitful, lying little girl."

DG shook her head. "My ancestor was not a liar. Or ungrateful. The rule of the Gales was the Golden Age of the Zone until the release of the Witch." _Ouch_. That fact, and her part in it, still stung.

"There is no doubt that the rule of the Gales was a peaceful, idyllic time for your country, Princess. And it will be again, if you'll just give me what I want."

"But why now?" DG asked him. "The Gales have sat on the throne of the Zone for over a century!"

"And never in that century and beyond has the Gale dynasty been as weak as it is now! A Queen without Light, a broken daughter, and one who is taking magic lessons meant for a child." DG's mouth set and she glared at him petulantly. "This was the perfect time to strike. The Emerald was guarded closely, magically for a hundred years. The _perfect_ time."

"You know, I'm _sick_ of listening to you whine about the Emerald," DG said, boldly. "Can you ever talk about anything else? Everything always leads to the Emerald. I'm tired of it."

The Commander sighed, and templed his thick fingers. "Fine," he said slowly. "Did you also know that the position of Commander is quite like your dynastic rule? Succeeded by an heir, as has been so for generations. So, Princess. This is not the first time our families have met. I know you have the dreams."

"How could you know?"

"Slaves talk," he said with a smile. DG didn't like the way he was leering at her. She pulled tighter into herself, hoping to sink back into the soft cushions. But there was no more distance to be had, unless she stood and backed away. She didn't want to take her eyes off of him.

"Have you seen him in your dreams? The Commander who captured the first Gale upon her arrival in the Outer Zone?"

DG looked down, searching the floor. "Roke," she whispered.

The outlander's lips curled into a smile. "Yes," he hissed. "Yes. All I want is what was rightfully his. What came out of his land, _my_ land. What he never received payment for. So_, little girl_, if you would just break the seal with your magic, you can head home, and your sister can inherit your mother's throne, and you can go about your silly little life."

DG shook her head. "The Emerald wields too much power. I can't just hand it over."

The Commander smirked. "Your sister already _did_ hand it over. It's _mine_. You need not worry, the power of the stone calls not to me. I only want the stone, not the power it possesses, what it brings to who holds it."

"Then why can't you just leave it in its box?" DG asked him. "I don't have to break the seal. You can just keep it like this. Then neither of us has to worry."

The Commander laughed, looking quite amused. "You know, girl, I'm beginning to like you."

In a swift, spontaneous move, DG clambered up over the back of the sofa, landing on her feet behind it. The Commander sighed, shaking his head. "Girl, you need to open the box." He bent, picked it up. He stalked closer to her, taking slow, calculated, sure steps.

DG swallowed hard, nervously wracking her brain for an answer. Nothing... but then out of nowhere, it came. Like a flash of light. Her fingers tingled at the very thought of it.

"Okay," she said softly. She'd backed herself up, against the wall. Cornered... or so it seemed.

The Commander's black eyes glittered. "You will not regret this. You will be home safe, soon."

DG took a deep breath, and held out her hand over the box he had extended before her. She could feel warmth radiating from it. She closed her eyes, concentrating hard on suppressing every fiber of her magic away from the box. Pretended to be trying. After a moment, she peeked an eye open to look at the box. The lock still glowed.

DG let her lip tremble. "I... I don't think I can."

"You tossed my men about like dolls, now _open the box_." His voice was hard, demanding... impatient.

She closed her eyes again. She let her arm and hand shake a bit, furrowed her brow. Again she opened her eyes, and saw the box still magically sealed. Elation flowed through her entire body. She might just be able to pull this off... and then they'd see, wouldn't they? The Commander would face first hand the power of the Gale family.

"I can't," she whispered. She needed to cry... but tears wouldn't come, she couldn't force them. She tried to make her voice teary, shaky. "I can't do it. Azkadellia's bond is too strong."

The Commander retracted the box away from her.

"I need Az's help," DG said pathetically. When the Commander glared at her, she forced a whimper instead of returning his malicious stare.

"Why are such things always entrusted to little girls?" the Commander asked the room, certainly not DG in particular. After a moment, he pointed a finger at her. "I will fetch your sister, Princess. But this will be done today. Now."

He stalked from the room. DG slid to the floor, breathing hard. He was bringing Azkadellia... he would bring her sister. Then, he would come to regret everything he had done to them.

Faintly, she smiled.


	18. Chapter Eighteen

**Author's Note**: Thank you to all my readers, reviewers, and subscribers. A special thank you to Queen Isabella for her assistance.**  
**

* * *

**Of Light**

**Chapter Eighteen**

* * *

_- The Northwestern Road -_**  
**

* * *

It was colder up in the mountains, even at their slight elevation. Ambrose closed the buttons of his jacket, turning up his collar to shield his neck from the chill. Night was falling fast, and his breath was beginning to come out in little puffs of air. The meeting with Andrus was long overdue, but the general was caught up with one of the search parties, and wouldn't be delayed much longer, said the messenger Andrus had sent.

The woods at night made him nervous. He couldn't say that he was frightened, but he was definitely on edge, and it was not a nice way to be. His body was jumpy when it was nervous – sometimes jumpy on its own at any old time too, uncontrollable – and he bounced lightly on his feet, swinging his arms back and forth.

"Come on, come on," he whispered to the trees around him. Deciding to stand out away from the camp to meet the general in private seemed like less of a good idea now, but hey... he could always just knock his head, give an "Oops, glitching again,"and he got out of just about every mistake he made. Which were numberable, though to no one would he ever admit that.

Ten minutes passed before the advisor heard the general's troops returning to the temporary camp. Further and further down the road, they'd moved their camp, as miles and miles of forest and foothills were combed, and then combed again. When they reached the mountain lake, Andrus had given the order to double back, search _again_. Even if the shapeshifter had his bearings wrong, there was no doubt that either group did not make it as far as the lake.

With no trail to follow and the corporal gone missing alongside DG, they had no leads to follow, and they were running out of time.

"Ah, Master Ambrose," the general said when he saw the advisor waiting for him. He waved his men forward, toward the camp, warm food and a seat by the fire.

"Any news, General?"

Andrus shook his head. "No, we have searched every inch of this realm and have found nothing. The men grow discouraged."

"There must be something we've overlooked," Ambrose said, searching the ground with his eyes as his brain ran through everything he'd been able to dig up about the outlanders (no pun intended). But research materials were scarce since the cleansing of Azkadellia's regime.

"You're more than welcome to walk out there and start turning over every stone you come across," Andrus said, not unkindly. "I'll even spare you a few of my men."

Ambrose glared at him, displeased. "These mountains range farther and deeper than we could ever hope to dig."

"You still stand firm that they are being held underground?"

"Sir, it's the only thing that could possibly make sense. Unless they are being held in some sort of invisible sky palace? One that rests above the clouds?" Then Ambrose's eyes slid upward, and he studied what he could see of the sky through the thick canopy above. "And hey, maybe it could be powered by some sort of giant wind turbine. Gusts up so high must average –"

The general scowled. He interrupted the rambling advisor. "Was there news from the consort while my men and I searched east of the river?"

Ambrose lowered his gaze from the heavens, brought back to the ground. "Not really."

The general shook his head. Being the only headcase to ever have his brain reconnected, someone should have been studying his daily progress after the procedure. The results were just baffling. "What does 'not really' mean, Master Ambrose? You're going to have to clarify."

"Gee, snippy," Ambrose said with an insulted snort. "Ahamo sent a report from Central City. I have advised him not to announce the disappearance of his family, the risk of a Longcoat uprising within the gates of the city is too great. Too many of them remain at large, and he has enlisted the help of the Tin Men to try and control the threat, now that the majority of the troops designated to Central City are... _engaged _elsewhere." Ambrose nodded to the forest around him. Hundreds of soldiers searched, on the orders of the Prince Consort. A fact that still angered Andrus.

"The Tin Men? They're nothing but a few old men and an academy full of new recruits." Andrus began to walk away, signaling an end to the conversation, but Ambrose continued to speak.

"You underestimate the Tin Men," Ambrose said. "They will be able to handle the Longcoats easily enough."

Andrus turned around, spitting angrily on the ground. "Tin Men! A Tin Man is the reason we're all out in this _gods forsaken _wilderness!"

"Then we'd best find her Majesty and the rest of the royal family," Ambrose said calmly, unimpressed with how unhinged the general had become so quickly, and over so small a fact. "You can get your men back to what's really important then, ferreting Longcoats out of basements and bathhouses."

Andrus was at a loss for words. Glitch grinned at him. "I believe you were leaving," he said. Turning away from the general, he stuffed his cold hands into the pockets of his jacket, and looked skyward again. He could hear the general grumbling as he walked away.

After a few moments, Raw came to join Ambrose. He, too, looked towards the sky.

"No moon, no stars. A dark night," the Viewer said.

Ambrose nodded, but didn't say anything.

"Glitch upset the old general. General not fond of you, not at all."

"What do I care?" Ambrose said with a shrug. "I'm tired of talking to that arrogant bastard. Once we find the Queen, and DG, I'm never talking to him again. You have my word."

Raw chuckled low. "Glitch does not usually have such hard feelings," he said. "You feel anger. You let personal feelings for family to cloud judgment. The general important man. Glitch wise not to argue over small things."

"Hey," Ambrose said shortly. "Defending Cain isn't a small thing. I mean, what was the man supposed to do? Turn down Azkadellia when she asked him for his help? Even if you put the fact that she's a princess aside." Ambrose looked at his furry companion. "Why do all the princesses go for Cain, anyway?"

"Tin Man brave and noble," Raw said with a small smile adorning his feline mouth. "He makes princess feel safe."

Ambrose snorted. "Oh yeah? Which one?"

Raw shook his head. He would not discuss such personal matters before his friend. He knew all too well what feelings were buried deep within both the Tin Man and the younger princess. It was not for him to divulge their souls to another. "I feel magic in these mountains," he said slowly, still staring up at the sky. "Like aftershocks. But the center, Raw cannot see."

Not noticing his question hadn't been answered, Glitch followed along Raw's new train of thought, easily distracted. "You know, magic leaves a trace. If I could engineer a contraption..." he slowed, thinking. He held his hands up, in what could roughly be considered the shape of a box. "Some sort of magic detector. Yeah... a little gadget that could give you an energy reading... then we could just follow the trace as it got stronger and stronger. Then we'd find them for sure."

Silence. The breeze through the brush around them picked up, blowing dead leaves. Snow was threatening. Three days they had been missing... and they were entering a fourth night. No word from their captors, no demands, nothing. Only the word of the Viewer beside him, that they lived in a darkness his heart-sight was unable to penetrate.

The dim light from the campfire barely reached them where they stood, away from the tents and movement of the soldiers. But even at the shadowy perimeter, Ambrose noticed his friend stiffen, heard Raw's breath catch.

"What is it?" Ambrose asked, alarmed.

"Something happens now. DG very scared," Raw whispered.

Ambrose looked around in a panic, as if hoping that the entrance to the secret underground lair where his friends were kept would suddenly, magically open up in the floor of the forest. "Is she using her magic?" Ambrose asked.

Raw closed his eyes, and nodded. His heart was pounding, every sense acutely aware of the trees around him. Like a taste on a crosswind, it came to him. Slowly, he raised his arm, turned and pointed. One word escaped his mouth.

"Northwest."

* * *

_- The Underground Complex -_

* * *

The outlander had locked the door behind him. DG was furious. Her fists were sore from banging on the wood, she stalked the room and screamed like a grounded teenager – something she hadn't left too far behind, and in her loneliness, she missed Hank and Emily so desperately it brought tears to her eyes.

Two hours passed, but the Commander didn't return with her sister. Her hope had risen up inside of her, had filled her so completely she was sure her feet might lift off the floor. To see Azkadellia! But as the minutes ticked away, became one hour, and then two, DG sank down into despair.

Escape was on her mind. She ran through a million plans. In each, the Commander melted into a puddle of black ooze on the floor immediately, the rest of the fantasy involving boldly rescuing the soldiers, heroically discovering the whereabouts of her mother, and a hail of gunfire that blew the exit door off its hinges. Bright light of the suns, fresh air! Piece of cake.

The only flaw in her fantastic plan was that she knew the Commander wouldn't melt. She knew that it was the combined power of the magic of herself and her sister, and the beam of energy produced by the Sunceder that had brought about that specific demise. And without the Commander meeting a timely and convenient end, most of her escape plans faltered and broke apart.

She was up and pacing when the door finally flew open, slamming into the wall with a bang. Azkadellia was pushed roughly into the room and fell onto the floor. DG rushed forward, and fell down beside her.

"Az!" she exclaimed. Az looked up at her with a wry smile. She looked worn, exhausted, but her dark eyes were glittering.

"Hello, Deege," her sister said weakly.

"Are you okay?" DG asked, helping her sister to her feet. Forgetting for the moment the Light and the Emerald and the Commander and the fortress around them, she concentrated on her older sister. "Did they hurt you?"

Az rolled her eyes. "Only a little."

_I'll hurt them more,_ DG thought bitterly. Hugging her sister tight, she caught the eye of the Commander over her sister's shoulder. "What have you been doing to her?"

"Only what I had to do, your Highness. All wrongs will soon be mended. Now, I believe you have agreed to do something for me," he said in a thick whisper. Everything seemed to have stopped moving. With her sister in her arms, DG didn't know how she was going to accomplish what she needed to do, or how to convey to her sister her plan.

"Commander," DG said slowly, releasing her sister. She knew it was too soon to take her sister's hand; one glimpse of the magic that flowed between them when they were connected, and he would have them apart before the power had a chance to build. A protective shield around them would do little good if they were rooted, trapped in this room.

The Commander snapped his fingers. A second outlander, one of his soldiers, stepped forward and handed the Commander the box holding the Emerald. "You will open this for me now, and when I see with my own eyes the treasure that lays within, I will have my men escort yours to the surface. You will join them with your dear old mother, and you can pluck your way out of this wilderness, and hope you find the way home." The laughter that followed was cruel, unyielding.

DG shivered at his cold words, and out of the corner of her eye, she saw Azkadellia shift uncomfortably. Now it was reversed, and Azkadellia was the one that was frightened, unsure. DG hugged her sister again, burying her face in Az's dark, soft hair. "Don't let go," she whispered, so quietly she wondered if Az could hear more than a mumble. But Az gave a small hum in her throat, an affirmation that to anyone else might have sounded like a contented sigh at her sister's embrace. DG pulled away, looked into her sister's face with a smile.

"Lay the box on the table, Commander," DG said. She nodded towards the flat surface that lay a few feet away. "You wouldn't want your hands to get burned."

The box was placed on the table, and the Commander took a step back, watching them expectantly.

DG took a deep breath, and clasped her sister's warm hand. The energy that shot through her fingers and up her arm strengthened her, enervated her. Beside her, Azkadellia stood straighter, and she tightened their grip with a squeeze; DG knew she felt the same resolution.

_"DG... squeeze my hand if you can hear me."_

Azkadellia's voice rang clear in DG's head. Furrowing her brow, momentarily confused, she didn't look over at her sister, but squeezed Az's hand gently. Az smiled.

_"Remind me to teach you this little trick when we get home."_

DG smiled at that. _When we get home_.

_"Are you ready, DG?"_ Azkadellia asked silently. "_When I give the signal, we must direct our energy at the Commander and his men. But you must wait. Let them think our magic isn't working."_

Az reached out and held her free hand out over the box. Connected with her sister, the hand glowed, casting shadows across the table. DG reached out and did the same thing, willing herself as she had before not to unlock the box by accident. Her hand shook with the effort of holding the magic back.

The Commander grunted. "My patience wears thin with you humans. I will kill you both and your mother too, if you do not break that seal!"

_"Don't listen to him,"_ Az's voice in her head said calmly. How could she be so composed? DG herself was terrified; of the Commander, of losing control of her magic, of what was about to or might happen._ "He needs us to unlock this box. He can't kill us, or he'll never get the Emerald."_

_I wish I shared your confidence,_ DG thought, even though she knew that the words would never reach her sister. This was definitely something worth learning.

_"DG, we must focus. We have to bend our magic; its like throwing a ball, just propel it forward. Are you ready?"_

The box on the table was beginning to shake; color was entering the Commander's face, the dull red of clay. He looked like he might get violent, and DG felt her courage waver. She squeezed her sister's hand again, gathering strength.

Azkadellia's voice in her head was tempered with restraint. _"One... two... THREE!"_

With tremendous force, DG put every fiber of her being into the warmth of the magic flowing through her veins. The power alighted all of her senses; a blast erupted from the outstretched hands of the two princesses, a shattering force that was loud and hot. It knocked the Commander and his soldiers backward. DG's eyes left the Commander to watch the box as it lifted off the table, vibrating in midair. DG's eyes widened, and the entire box fell apart, exploded, the pieces shooting into every corner of the room. The Emerald clattered pathetically onto the tabletop.

"No!" Az screamed. DG looked sharply at her, but even in that moment, she felt the magical connection beginning to weaken. The lights in the room flickered, and turned off. Cries of pain emitted from the soldiers on the floor, before they went eerily silent. The Commander was trying to climb to his feet, using the table to pull himself up.

"NO!"

Which of them uttered the word, DG wasn't sure. With another blast of light, one so bright that she had to turn her head, the outlander was thrown backwards again, into the small sitting area. With a wave of her hand, Azkadellia turned the furniture on top of him, tossing each piece down hard.

Painfully, the sisters disentangled their clasped hands. Drawing a shaky breath, DG tried to light the lamps with her magic, but they only flickered momentarily, casting bizarre shadows on the walls before hurtling them into darkness once again. The only light was what spilled in from the hallway, and the faintly glowing gem on the table.

Az stared at it. "DG, I can't bear to pick it up," she said softly. "Would you?"

DG was hesitant. "You bested him," her sister told her. "Together, we conquered him. It won't resist you, just grab it!"

DG wished she knew more about the rules of magic that governed their steps. She pocketed the Emerald, picking it up with her hand inside the sleeve of her dress, the jewel too burning hot to touch. Encased inside her pocket, she could feel its warmth against her leg, but instead of comforting, it felt like a weight, like a bomb ticking away.

"We have to find Mother," Az said after a moment, running her hands over her mussed hair. "The Commander has a card that he inserts into the locks..." she said slowly. She held up a hand. DG saw in the dim light something small, flat, and white fly through the air. Az caught it easily.

"Will that open the door to the surface?" DG asked her sister. Az shrugged her shoulders, a fleeting, fearful look crossing her pale, beautiful face as she studied the plastic card in her hands, turning it over and over as if it might change.

"DG, we have to hurry. The entire complex will have heard that blast. We have to find Mother and get out of here."

DG shook her head. "No, we have to get the others from below. We can't leave them here."

Azkadellia shook her head with an impatient sigh. She was already stepping gingerly over the two bodies in the doorway, watching the pile of furniture on the other side of the room as she did so. "There is no time, DG! We have to get out of here _now_!"

"I won't leave Cain here, they'll kill him!"

Azkadellia looked at her sister then, glancing back from the doorway. A strange, wistful looked crossed over the woman's features, and DG cocked her head to the side as she watched Azkadellia's face move from sadness, to a small smile, to an absolute stubbornness DG recognized as one of her own.

"You're right, we can't leave them behind. But how do we find the way?"

DG grinned. "Follow me."


	19. Chapter Nineteen

**Author's Note**: Thank you to all my readers, reviewers, and subscribers._  
_

* * *

**Of Light_  
_**

**Chapter Nineteen**

* * *

_- The Underground Prison -**  
**_

* * *

Wyatt Cain lay on his cot in the dark, so still he might have been asleep. His eyes were closed, but his ears were attuned to the sounds of the complex. The scuff of the guards as they walked slow circles around the block of cells. The guards spoke amongst themselves. Cain learned they were eager to head over the mountains. Humans under the employment of the Commander, the one that ran everything, the very reason he was locked in this dismal little cell, away from the light of the double suns. Cruel, to find freedom again and to lose it again so quickly.

The guards spoke of the impending release of the prisoners, of knocking them unconscious and dumping them in the woods, and if they were lucky, perhaps they would wake before wild animals found them. They joked as if it were their will, and not their leader's, that held the prisoners there, and the guards spoke of them derisively, as they might speak of the slaves who did the work around them.

Cain was tired of the jabber of these idiots. But he listened intently nonetheless. One guard had a heavier step, the other spoke too fast. Neither seemed to be the guard Cain had had a run in with the night before.

The night before... DG and her slippery nightgown riding up to her hips as she straddled his lap. Cain folded his arms behind his head, trying to get comfortable, trying to banish DG from his head. Her warmth, the way she pressed against him so willingly, weren't easy thoughts to push away.

He'd known this was coming, as inevitable as the suns rising in the east. The day she left the embassy, to return to palatial life with her parents, she'd found him tucked into a secluded corner on the second floor. He was watching through a window as the vehicles were being loaded on the street below.

"Keeping an eye out for anyone suspicious?" she'd asked in a teasing voice. He looked at her, turning his head slightly. He'd heard her coming, known she would seek him out wherever he was on this, the last day.

"Just tryin' to avoid all the fanfare," he said, and nodded out the window. DG moved closer, her shoulder brushing his chest as she leaned over to take a look. A crowd was already amassing, people milling around, some with cameras, waiting for the royal family to exit.

DG rolled her eyes. "Someone save me, please. I'd rather go a round with some Longcoats than go out there."

Cain had chuckled low. He found himself watching her as she peered down into the street with a pouty look on her face. Despite her complaints, and to everyone's surprise, she wasn't doing half-bad pretending to be a princess. An entire country was under the belief that the dear young princess had been spirited away to the Other Side, to live a life with wealth, that she was comfortable and secure.

Yes, she'd been comfortable and secure. But, as he understood it, she'd been in trouble every other day, and could dismantle an engine better than she could pick up a teacup. Hardly befitting a princess of the realms. So DG's _quirks_ were hidden from the public.

When she had looked at him again, he'd noticed sadness in her eyes. He knew she was upset with him for not coming with her, for not being willing to escort her to Finaqua in the very least.

"I guess we all got our work cut out for us," Cain said softly, wanting to try his best to take that sorrowful look out of her eyes. DG had sighed deeply, leaned her head against the window, watching the people below. The girl had stormed an enemy fortress, faced and defeated a dark, magical power, and had come out with everything in the world. And there she was, worried about facing the cameras.

"You'll do okay," he had reassured her. She looked at him, and he thought he got a glimpse of a smile.

"Well," she had said, "I have to go. Mother wants me to change my clothes." She gestured down at the slacks she wore, the loose blouse that was overly large, not hers.

"Make sure you take care of yourself," he said, trying not to look into her blue eyes. Why was she making him feel like he was abandoning her? "Make sure they don't put the headcase's brain in backwards."

DG smiled at him, a real smile. "You should stop calling him 'the headcase'."

Cain smiled back at her. "Never."

She had hugged him then, a movement so fluid and instant that he didn't have time to recover before she was wrapping one arm around his neck. The other snaked over his shoulder, grabbed his collar, and she pulled herself as close as it was possible for them to be (_No, not true, not as close as it was possible to be,_ Cain thought now). She pressed her forehead against his neck, and he noticed she was shaking. His arms fell around her waist, pulling her close, and he allowed himself to lean his head against hers, and just _held_ her.

It was in that moment that he'd known the princess was more of a danger to him that he could have imagined. No, not a _danger_, per se, but at the same time... he was a widower with a grown son and a broken life laying behind him. The last thing he'd needed to be doing was holding a sweet armful of princess that clung to him like he was her hero.

Now, laying in the dark, the memory of the scent of her hair, the feel of her warm, supple body... He tried to rationalize with himself. It was just the fear, the tension... fear and tension had been present the entire week before the Eclipse, why hadn't they fallen into each other's arms then? Why after? After she felt safe, warm, protected...

_With me?_

A series of strange sounds outside his door brought Cain out of his reverie. Sitting up on the cot, he strained his ears. A shout, and a curse, and then a series of unfriendly-sounding thuds. He was on his feet when he heard someone fumbling with the lock. It took a few tries to get the door open, and when it did, and the light from the corridor flooded his cell, he found himself facing the old caretaker, Jowan.

"Bit early for supper, isn't it, old man?" Cain asked, incredulous. Behind the old man wheezing in the doorway of his cell, a set of legs belonging to an unconscious guard could be seen. Cain felt a chuckle rising up in his throat, but he swallowed it down, stared hard at his liberator.

"Get a move on, boy!" Jowan snapped at him, looking impatient. In his hand, he held the rifle he'd acquired from the guard. He waved it at Cain. "Hurry!"

"My men," Cain said, but Jowan was already climbing over the body on the floor, heading for the other doors with the ring of keys in his hand.

"Their command room is at the end of the hall. Turn right! There'll be a supply closet, find something to restrain that guard before he wakes up!" Jowan called to him. "The other one is around the corner, he'll need to be tied, too." The old man was already opening the next cell.

The command room was small, and it wasn't hard to find his way around. He found a set of ancient, rusted shackles. Pvt. Burrows appeared, and Cain pointed him in the direction of the restraints. "The guards need to be locked up, drag them into one of the cells and chain them to the pipes on the ceiling."

Burrows nodded, eying the chains warily. "Those look pretty old, Captain. Are you sure they'll do?"

"Well enough," Cain grunted. Suddenly a smile crossed his face. Behind the door was a weapon's locker. As his men reported to him, he began to hand out firearms. Corporal Hass helped Burrows drag the bodies of the guards into Cain's abandoned cell, and the sounds of the chains scraping the pipes reverberated down the hallway to the command room.

The old caretaker was out of breath, leaning against the wall. Cain secured a holster to his belt, sheathed a handgun after checking the clip. "Why're you doin' this?" Cain asked him, keeping his voice low. His men were scrambling to ready themselves; out of the corner of his eye, he could see Jeb strapping a holster to his ankle.

"I serve the royal family," the old man said.

"We'll get you out of here," Cain said after a moment. Despite the obvious hindrance the old man would be, there wasn't a single part of Cain that considered leaving him down there. But Jowan just shook his head. He was standing straighter than he normally did, reminding Cain of the night before, and the episode in the hallway, his previous impromptu escape attempt. "Why're you helping us?" he asked again.

"I do not help you to help _you_, sir, or your men. I help you only because the ladies would not be able to free you themselves. I help you because you will be the one to return the ladies safely home. You must take them to Central City." Jowan's voice was quiet, and he was staring down the hallway towards the stairs. Keeping watch.

"Captain, sir," Jeb said, nudging his father on the arm. "We're ready to move."

Cain ignored him, keeping his attention firmly on the caretaker. "Central City? Why would we go to Central City? It's farther than Finaqua is."

"Which is why the outlanders would try to cut us off in that direction," Jeb said, seeing things before his father did.

The old caretaker nodded, impressed with the boy. "We are far into the northwest. This is the first time this base has been occupied since the days of Pastor's rule. If you head south you will reach the Nwyn River. Barely an hour's journey."

"Do you know what happened to our horses?" Jeb asked him. Jowan shook his head.

Cain looked to Private McLauren, who was shifting nervously, eyeing the old man with suspicion. "McLauren, go watch the door." Cain nodded his head in the direction of the stairs. The private acknowledged the command with a slight nod, and walked down the hallway, quietly and carefully.

"If you'll excuse me, Captain. You must head upstairs. Remember: the river. Maybe you'll be lucky enough to find a town along that way. Then you'll be able to breathe easy," Jowan said. "Now if you'll excuse me Captain, I think it's best I found another place to be."

Jeb stepped up next to his father as they watched the old man shuffle down the hallway. Jowan used a key off the ring to unlock a door, and when he opened it, Cain could see another hallway. Jowan locked the door once again, tossed the keyring to the floor; it slid a few feet in Cain's direction. With a wink, and a cough, Jowan closed the door behind him and disappeared.

"Would have been nice if he'd told us the way out," Jeb said.

"Lots of things would be nice," Cain said shortly. "Let's get out of here."

"I can get us to the second level, where Azkadellia is being kept."

Cain looked oddly at his son. "How do you know where Azkadellia is?"

Jeb shook his head. "No time, Father. Let's just go."

The five men walked swiftly to the stairwell. When they cracked the door open, Cain could hear someone coming down the metal stairs, fast. He rolled his eyes, growled low in his throat. _Just perfect, can't even get out of here without running into guards. _

The men looked rattled, unsure, and for the first time, Cain wondered if they would all make it out alive. Shaking the thought off, he looked through the tiny line of door that was open. Through the grated stairs, he saw a pair of bare feet, and behind it a pair of heeled boots that were finding difficult purchase on the stairs.

"Slaves," he whispered to the men. With a jerk of his head, he ordered Hass forward. "Open it," he said, nodding his head once more towards the door. Unbuttoning the holster, heart pounding, Cain watched as Hass slowly opened the door, directing his gun at the two bodies coming down the stairs.

It happened quickly; in a very confusing moment, with a sound like the gusting of wind, Hass was thrown backwards to the wall. He hit the cement with a grunt, and slid to the floor. Eyes wide, Cain risked a peek around the corner, only to see DG and her sister descending.

"DG!" Cain called out. Jeb was helping Hass to his feet.

"Oh, thank God," DG said as she saw him. Her face brightened, though she was pale and scared-looking. A sudden realization spread across her features. "Az! We attacked our own soldiers! Is he okay?" She looked from Cain, to the corporal, to Cain again.

"He's alive," Jeb said. Hass, hauled to his feet by his companions, was holding his head in one hand, looking dazed.

To Cain's surprise, DG didn't throw herself at him. She looked in control of herself, but only barely. Her eyes were a bit frantic, her expression kept shifting from frightened to resolute to a blankness that unnerved him. Casting a glance at Azkadellia, he saw unfaltering bravery, tinged perhaps with worry for her sister. Az leaned against the wall, removing the boots from her feet.

Jeb was looking at her with interest. She smiled faintly at him, something Cain had yet to see grace her lips in the time he'd known her. "I can't climb all those stairs in these. I barely made it down here without breaking my neck," she said, holding up the boots now grasped firmly in her hands. She handed a white card to Cain.

He turned it over in his hands. "What's this?"

"It's an access card," Jeb said, looking at it. "It'll get us to the higher levels. But we've got to move, now."

The company of seven quickly climbed the stairs. Cain took the rear, his eyes constantly searching for their next obstacle, but they didn't hit it. "Do I even want to know what you and your sister did?" he asked DG, who was lagging behind near him.

DG shook her head. "You really don't. Do I want to know what you did to obtain that uniform?"

Cain smirked. "We had a little help."

On the second level landing, Cain handed the card to Jeb. Jeb kneeled down, examining the side of the keypad attached to the door. After a few seconds, he found a slot. Keeping a finger on it, he looked at his father.

"Do you have a plan yet?"

"Don't get caught."

Jeb nodded. "Works for me. Do we split up?"

Cain thought for a moment. The idea of splitting up was one he didn't like. But the seven of them were going to attract attention in the corridors, especially with the two princesses sticking out like sore thumbs. After a moment of silence, Azkadellia spoke up.

"Captain," she said slowly. "If you take DG to go find my mother, and if I can find the access door to the first level, I can send DG directions."

Cain shook his head, confused. "_Send_ directions. How?"

DG shook her head. "Just never mind," she told him. "It'll work, it's a good plan. It's our only plan."

Cain didn't like it. "Jeb, go with the princess. Burrows, Hass go with them. McLauren will come with DG and I."

Jeb inserted the card into the lock. With a beep and a series of clicks, the door disengaged. Jeb pulled it open cautiously, Pvt. Burrows peeking his head out to watch the hallway. "It's clear," the private said after a moment.

"The rooms were I was kept are down the passage to the right. Try looking there," Az said to her sister. They embraced quickly, breaking apart unwillingly. With a last wistful look at each other, Az turned away, towards the door. She straightened her shoulders, and from behind her, Cain saw her raise her chin, take a deep breath; she was readying herself for what she was about to do.

"We'll follow," Cain said, and nodded at his son. The steady, brave look on his son's face made him proud, but the feelings were lost in the tumult of worry and adrenaline. His heart was pounding, and his skin felt warm. He watched as the four left quickly through the door, Jeb taking Azkadellia by the hand to lead her behind him. Cain caught DG watch the simple touch, confused. Pvt. McLauren stepped forward to stop the door closing on them with his boot.

"Let's go find the Queen," Cain said after a moment. "Looks like they haven't noticed us yet, but there's no knowing how long things are gonna stay quiet. We have to move fast."

DG was watching him, and she gave a nod of her head, a motion of bare recognition. Cain sighed, stepped down two stairs, and caught her chin in his hands.

"You ready?"

She gave her slight nod again, her eyes searching his. In a move that surprised even himself, he leaned down, captured her lips in a quick kiss. Pvt. McLauren looked away, pretending not to see.

DG took a deep breath when he pulled away, and a smile crossed her face, wide and relieved. She steeled herself as her sister had, though she didn't possess the emboldened spirit of Azkadellia. DG nodded her head at him, signaling she was ready to do what had to be done. "Let's go find my mother."

Cain nodded. "Lets go."

McLauren opened the door wider, checked the hallway, his hand hovering over the gun at his hip. "Its clear," he said after a moment of looking left to right, then right to left, and then back again. DG stepped forward through the door being held open for her, and Wyatt Cain followed behind her.


	20. Chapter Twenty

**Author's Note**: Thank you to all my readers, reviewers, and subscribers._  
_

* * *

**Of Light**

**Chapter Twenty**

* * *

_- The Underground Complex -_**  
**

* * *

His palms were sweating, making it hard to keep a good, firm grip on his gun. They'd found a secluded alcove to tuck into, shadowed and out of the way, where they might take a moment to gather their bearings. When Jeb looked over at his charge, he found her staring blankly at the wall, pale and withdrawn.

"Now, Princess, we stick together," Jeb told her quietly, standing very close so that he didn't need to speak in more than a whisper for her to hear him.

"Az," she said quietly. "Just Az."

Jeb nodded, as if he understood her reasoning, though she baffled him. Why would such a thing matter at a time like this? "All right. Az. We all need to stay together. We get separated, we're as good as dead. Do you understand?"

She nodded.

"We're going to have to move to the other end of this floor. How, without getting noticed, I don't know."

"Who gave you the mercenary uniforms?" she asked him, eyeing his garb with interest.

Jeb watched Pvt. Burrows checking the hallway, gun at the ready. Burrows looked back at him, nodded his head slightly. Still in the clear. Jeb turned back to Azkadellia. "The caretaker on the floor where we were kept. Said you demanded we were treated a little better, so he brought us clean clothes, some other things."

A ghost of a smile graced her pale lips. "Yes," she said softly. "But why these uniforms? I didn't tell him to dress you like the Commander's forces."

"Well, maybe the old man thought it would help," Corporal Hass spoke up. "I think he had a better idea than most what was going to happen."

"DG told me that stealing Longcoat uniforms was how Captain Cain and Ambrose infiltrated the Witch's Tower," Az said, back to watching the wall without really seeing it. Which one of the soldiers she was speaking to, it was anyones guess. Jeb thought it strange, _very _strange, to hear the woman referring to 'the Witch' as another person. Oh, he knew about the possession, knew the sequence of events that had led to the separation of the Sorceress and Azkadellia. But still... _They say she isn't the Witch. Just a princess now... Az._

"Well, we need to figure something out," Jeb said. The gun was heavy in his hands, and it made him nervous that he didn't know how it would fire. The firearm was not of O.Z. make; it was foreign and he was increasingly uncomfortable with it. "If they find us, uniforms or not, we'll be dragged back like prisoners."

"We are prisoners," Burrows said, not turning away from watching the hallway.

"Prisoners," Az said slowly. Then her eyes widened. "Oh! That's it!" she exclaimed, suddenly. A smile, a real smile, spread across her face, though it quickly disappeared. Ex-evil-Sorceress or not, Jeb had to admit the woman was beautiful when she smiled. Something underneath the dark eyes looked innocent and kind, her cheeks inflamed with color at her sudden burst of inspiration.

"What's it?" Jeb asked her.

"Prisoners," she said. "You're not _dressed_ like prisoners. You're dressed like one of their human soldiers. It's so simple. Just... pretend that you're guards, and drag _me_ like a prisoner. We can walk clear across this floor that way."

Even for all the danger they were in, for the threat on their lives, the innuendo of her statement hit him hard, inappropriate to the point he was a little ashamed of himself for thinking it. _You be the guard and I'll be the prisoner._ He shook his head, the absurdity of his first thought fading into admiration for the princess.

Hass also looked surprise at Azkadellia's insight. "You know," he said slowly, "that could work."

"You'll have to put your shoes back on," Jeb said, nodding his head to the boots that were in her hand. She nodded, leaning against the wall with one hand as she pulled them on one at a time. Jeb, despite himself, reached out to steady her as she stood on one foot.

"Thank you," she said quietly when he let go, casting her eyes away from him.

Minutes later, Jeb and Hass had the princess by her arms, and they marched her down the hallway, Burrows following closely behind. Down one hallway and then another, so many corners that he hoped they were going the right way, backtracking would be near impossible.

A slave girl, barely eight annuals, was scrubbing the floor on her hands and knees in front of them. When she saw them coming, she cowered with her face near the floor, not even daring to look up at them. Feeling disgusted with himself, Jeb acted his part, gave her water bucket a kick. It slid towards her, its contents sloshing.

They met no one else. He was just beginning to wonder if they would ever find the stairs when they came across a door that was of a heavier metal, that was secured with the same kind of electronic lock. Examining the side of the device as he had before, he tried the security card. There was a loud beep, a series of clicks, and when he pulled the handle, the door opened easily.

A sigh of relief. "Okay, we're going to have to find a place to hide until the captain returns with her Majesty and the princess," Jeb said. They walked back the way they had come, still holding firmly to the arms of Azkadellia. After a few minutes, they found an out of the way room filled with bits and pieces of furniture.

They entered quickly, and closed the door behind them. While Burrows set about immediately securing the door, Hass let go of Az. Jeb held on, and after a moment, Az jerked her arm away from him.

"You could have tried to not bruise me," she said, sounding unimpressed. "You were _pretending_ to be a guard. You weren't supposed to be gripping me like I would actually try to run away." She was angry, glaring at him with dark, unreadable eyes.

Jeb shrugged his shoulders. Az sighed, and moved away into a corner.

He watched her as she leaned against a file cabinet, her skirts obscuring most of it from view. The princess folded her hands in her lap, and then studied them intently, as if the answers to their problems would be written somewhere on her skin. Sighing, already less than thrilled with himself, he walked over to her.

Keeping his distance, he asked "How will you contact your sister?"

Azkadellia looked at him, surprised at the contriteness in his voice, as if he were hoping his words would serve as enough of an apology for manhandling her. "Magic," she said with a smirk.

Jeb's mouth made a funny little line, and she knew then he had a soldier's attitude towards Light and Dark and power. To most people in the Zone, magic was not something of the every day. Very few people were born with the strange, mysterious force known as magic, something in their blood that allowed them to wield amazing power with their hands, and minds. Too many people, however, had seen the misuse of magic, mostly through the channel of the Sorceress.

Jeb Cain, she knew, was skeptical and wary, and with good reason.

"Would you like to go try and find them yourself?" she asked after a moment. "I'm sure if you wandered long enough..."

"How do you do it?" he asked her, and she thought she detected an actual interest in hearing her answer.

Az took a deep breath. "It's very subtle. Really simple, once you know how to do it. I can talk to DG in her mind, and she'll be able to follow whatever directions I give her."

"You can read her mind?" Jeb asked.

"No," Az said, shaking her head. "I can't read her thoughts. I can only make my voice heard to her, like I would whisper in her ear if I were standing next to her. That's all."

"And she can talk back to you?"

Az shook her head again. "No, I don't think she could. It's... it's _possible_, she does possess the ability. But I don't think she'd know how to use it, or how to send her voice to me when she doesn't know where I am. She and I have a connection, and I know how to control my magic to remit myself to her."

One look at him told her he didn't believe her. It would be easy to show him, he was standing so close. But to have one's head invaded by strange magic was an unpleasant experience to the unprepared, and she didn't want to scare him. If he tensed and tried to shut her out while she was doing it, his mental defense might backfire, damage his thought processes. Not something she wanted to do... for the most part, Wyatt Cain's son wasn't so bad.

"Can you try to contact her now? Tell her we've found the stairs to the first level?"

Az nodded slowly. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath.

_DG_, she thought, her voice echoing through the space between them. _"We've found the first level access, and we're hidden in a small room nearby, waiting for you. We're in the northern section of the second level." _

When she opened her eyes, Jeb was watching her expectantly. She tried to give a little smile, and a shrug, but she barely managed it. She knew that her sister would have heard her, but now it would be up to DG and Cain to find their way. The thought gave her comfort, that her mother and sister would not be alone.

* * *

_- The Underground Complex -_

* * *

The second level was designed much like the third where her own room was, so it was easy for DG to find the way to the guest chambers. If the Commander had held her in a lavish suite, she hoped that he had done the same for her mother. Following her whispered directions, Cain led the way. She walked carefully, sandwiched between the two men as McLauren walked behind her, constantly watching the way they'd just come, almost as if he were afraid outlanders would materialize out of the walls around them.

"Tell me again why you don't have any shoes?" Cain asked DG quietly as they navigated one turn and then the next. He didn't look back at her, his eyes constantly forward, scanning the hallway.

DG rolled her eyes. "They were ruined and they hurt my feet."

"So you're orchestrating a prison break in bare feet?"

DG wasn't impressed with how amused he sounded at the fact. "Just get us out of here," she commanded imperiously. "Let me worry about my feet."

After a few moments, they came to a hallway of heavy, carved wooden doors. Near the end of the passage, a solitary guard stood outside a particular door. Her mother's chamber.

"Stay here," Cain told her in a whisper. The seriousness of his gaze told her she'd best do what he said. Staying with her back pressed against the wall, her heart pounding, she heard a scuffle, a muffled shout, a dull thud and a crack. McLauren was watching around the corner, and he gently touched her arm and motioned her forward.

The guard was unconscious on the floor. "Gee, Cain," DG said with a laugh. "You always make such a good first impression."

Dubiously, he stared at her. How could she be laughing at such a time? He watched her as she crouched down, unhooked the keys from the guard's belt. She stood, and began trying them on the lock. The third key unlocked the door. Throwing it open, impatient, she faced the room. _Typical_, he thought. _This girl is afraid of nothing._ _An entire army of outlanders could wait on the other side of the door, ready to strike, and she barges in like she owns the place._ He found himself close to a smile.

"Mother!" DG exclaimed, louder than she'd meant to. The Queen was sitting on a settee, watching the door. She must have heard the confrontation outside, because she rose to her feet quickly, holding out her arms to embrace the girl that ran straight to her.

"Oh, my darling," The Queen whispered, nestling her face into her daughter's dark hair. "How?" She looked up at Cain.

"I told the Commander I needed Az's help to break her seal," DG said with a grin. The Queen nodded knowingly, the rest of the story falling into place in her mind quickly.

Cain was dragging the guard from the hallway into the room by the legs. When he dropped the man with a thump, he turned to the two women. McLauren closed the door to the hallway, and stood ready, listening intently for anyone coming down the hallway.

"Your Majesty," Cain said after a moment. "Are you ready to get out of here?"

The Queen ignored him, staring at her daughter. "Where is the Emerald?"

DG patted her pocket. The Queen nodded, relieved. She walked to the wardrobe and extracted her cloak, studying her daughter.

"DG, where are your shoes?"

"A lost cause," DG said dismissively. She watched as her mother bent over, rummaging through the bottom of the wardrobe. The Queen extracted a pair of patent leather slippers.

"Put these on, dear," she said. She tossed the slippers at her daughter, who caught one and dropped the other. Bending over to pick it up, when she straightened herself, DG was shaking her head.

"I'm not wearing someone else's shoes," she said, but she put her feet into them anyway, knowing being fickle at a moment like this was pure insanity. Cain was right, she wasn't going to walk back to Finaqua through the forest in her bare feet, and she didn't know enough magic to conjure up a nice, comfortable pair of sneakers. For that matter, she didn't even know if her magic could do that. "They're too small," she muttered so that only her mother could hear her, and she was rewarded with a soft, understanding smile.

"Where is Azkadellia?" the Queen asked.

"She's with the other soldiers, trying to find access to the first level," Cain said. He was hovering near DG. "Has she called to you yet?"

"No," DG said. "Will we wait here until I do?"

Cain sighed. "We're not gonna have much choice. We can't just start wandering around, we'll have a better chance of getting caught that way. We'll just have to sit tight."

DG nodded, and sat down on the sofa . Her mother perched next to her, and took her hand.

"The Commander will be after us soon enough," the Queen said. "This is a foolhardy plan."

"It's no better than walking out into the woods with minimal escort when you know enemies are after you," Cain said, a bit shortly. DG looked at him, surprised. But Cain's face was a mask of seriousness. He was worried, she could tell as easily as she knew she herself was worried. The thought of a worried Cain made her afraid.

"Tell me what happened," her mother whispered to her. Leaning in close, glad for her mother's touch on her hand, DG relayed the entire story, almost in a single breath. When she ended the tale with Azkadellia hurtling an arm chair down on the head of their captor, her mother smiled.

"Hit with magic like that, there is no knowing how long he will be out of our way," the Queen said practically. She looked up at Cain, standing behind the sofa with his hand on his holster. "We may meet resistance on the first level. Once he awakens from his stupor, he will have the entire complex on alert."

"Believe me," Cain said gruffly, "I've thought of that."

"Then what do you propose we do, Captain, if we're caught trying to escape?"

Cain's first reaction to the question was simply to shoot their way out. He hadn't thought much past being reunited with his son, getting the women to the surface. What then? Head southeast, to the river. Follow the river, hopefully find a ranch or a homestead. Put those people in danger to help the cause. Yes, the more people involved, the better off they would be. Right.

"Cain?" DG asked him. She was looking at him with fearful blue eyes. Cain swallowed hard.

"I don't know," he said stiffly. "Lets just take this one step at a time, and our next step is to follow whatever directions your sister has for us." He'd feel much better once the group was together, with the strength and firepower of five men instead of two, and... as much as it might shame him to admit, the magic of the two sisters. They were a powerful force, and they needed all the help they could get.

She was still looking at him. Her eyes searched his, looking for assurance, for confirmation that they might make it out of this alive. He wished that he had something to give her, something that would make her stop looking lost and scared. When faced with adversity, she was tenacious, all indomitable spirit and grit. But now, faced with nothing but possibility of what was to come, she was humble, timid.

Suddenly, her eyes widened. He looked at her quizzically. DG closed her eyes, turned her head slightly to the side, as if were trying to better hear a far-off sound. When she opened her eyes, she was smiling. "They found the stairs," she said. "It's at the northern end, they're hiding and waiting for us."

The Queen was immediately on her feet, walking towards the door. DG hung back, looking at Cain a last time before following.

"We'll have to head back a bit, the way we came. Let's hope we don't run into anyone."

The Queen's voice was steady as she spoke. "The Commander will be cautious of her now," she said, nodding at her daughter. "Outlanders have no use for magic, most of them fear it. They are people of substance, of the earth. They are uncertain and afraid of such ethereal things."

Cain took a deep breath, motioned for McLauren to open the door. "I hope you're right."

"Remember, darling," the Queen said to her daughter as the two men walked slowly out of the room, watching the hallway. Cain waved them forward. "Outlanders have _no use_ for magic. You must remember this."

DG nodded. She felt a tug at the sleeve of her dress, and looked down to see Cain pulling his hand away, allowing the touch for only a moment. "Come on, it's time to go."


	21. Chapter Twenty One

**Author's Note**: Thank you to all my readers, reviewers, and subscribers._  
_

* * *

**Of Light**

**Chapter Twenty-One**

* * *

_- The Underground Complex -**  
**_

* * *

It was shouting that stirred him to consciousness. There was pressure on his body, slowly lifting; he was being jostled. With a groan and a heave, the Commander pushed a table off of himself, and staggered to his feet. Lt. Shore was staring at him, and retracted his proffered hand.

"What happened, sir?" Shore asked. He looked agitated.

It was slowly coming back to him. The trickery of the little witches... a wave of energy, and then a second. Then flying furniture. The table connecting with his head had knocked him unconscious, and by the look of the littered room, she'd thrown more than just the table at him. The Sorceress, Azkadellia.

He'd choke the life out of her when he got his hands on her.

"Never mind what happened. Where are they?"

Lt. Shore hesitated, and the Commander felt his anger grow. "Where _are_ they?" the Commander demanded again through gritted teeth.

Shore heaved a sigh, looked down at the floor as he spoke. "We have just begun a search for them, Commander. We were only just alerted to the situation when the princess's maid came to bring her supper, and found you and the others on the floor. She called for the guards immediately."

The Commander looked around, his anger boiling away now into a full blown rage. _Little girls_, he thought, and spat on the floor. His underling was watching him expectantly.

"Search this floor," the Commander ordered. "And the floors below."

"Yes, sir," Shore said, and ran off without saluting. The Commander rolled his eyes. Jittery and unreliable, Shore was due for a demotion, and if this mess wasn't cleaned up, it would probably be a _permanent_ one. He put a hand on the back of his head, already feeling a pounding headache. He looked at the demolished room. The table where the Emerald had fallen now bore a black burn mark.

_The Emerald._

He didn't bother to look for it, knowing full well they would have taken it with them. There was no chance for escape, and he wondered absently what he would do when he got them back in his grasp. _Two little princesses_, he thought with a grimace.

This had been so well planned. He would rise to glory above that of his forefathers, would redeem the banishment of his people, would return the Emerald to rightful soil. As it had fallen into place for Dorothy Gale a century before, now it would fall into place for him. A powerless Queen, a disgraced monarchy. An unprotected treasure.

Annual upon annual, he'd sat and waited, watching as one piece connected with the other. An eclipse foreseen by astronomers since before Pastor's day approached, an age-old prophecy whispered behind hands and closed doors. A Queen with two daughters... then only one, and one alone.

_The entire nation mourns,_ his scout had said. _The funeral procession of the tiny princess stretched farther than the eye could see, marching slowly through the streets of their Shining City._

The Shining City, where Dorothy Gale had reached sanctuary, had gone beyond his grandfather's grasp. Under the protection of a king, who petted the dear child who'd brought him the very thing he'd almost paid a king's ransom for. The Emerald.

The news over the mountains grew ever grayer. Every time his scout would return, it would be with grave tidings. _The Princess Azkadellia has overthrown her mother's rule and taken to the throne._

He'd nodded, behind his desk. When the scout had left, he'd risked a grin. It would only be a matter of time. And true enough, it had been... for nine annuals after dethroning her mother, Azkadellia had searched endlessly for the stone, without rest. In comfort, and with assurance, he'd watched the skies and waited.

Permanent darkness hadn't mattered to him. His people were of the below ground variety, venturing rarely into the light from the double suns, seeking sparingly the wind in the trees, the pinprick glow of stars. The Emerald was unsheathed from its hiding place, and he'd seen his time to strike.

Now, in his arrogance, he could see he'd underestimated the little princesses, just as his grandfather had underestimated Dorothy Gale.

He walked at a brisk pace to the second-level access staircase. He reached into his pocket, and found nothing. Searched every other pocket and found... _nothing_. Realization dawned instantly. "Damn them!" he roared. Angrily, he punched a series of numbers into the keypad, and the lock released.

Halfway to his office, he heard someone calling him. A human boy, probably second or third generation slave. "Sir," the boy called, and threw his soft body down at the Commander's feet.

Grunting, he nudged the boy with his boot. "What is it?"

The boy was cowering, shaking. He did not rise, nor look at the outlander. "Sir, the lieutenant ordered me to find you. He requests you down in the slave quarters, where you kept the prisoners."

_Kept. Past tense._ With a growl, the Commander stalked past the boy, crushing outstretched fingers underneath the weight of his boot.

The boy slowly rose to his feet, crying silently over his mashed fingers. Glaring hatefully at the departing outlander, who never looked back, he thought he might go down to the kitchen to see his mother, show her his injury. He'd turned on his heel, determined, when around the corner came running four people, two guards, a beautiful woman with silver hair, a younger woman with a mass of dark waves.

"Ohhh," the boy whispered, and fell into a bow. He knew who these women were, his mother had bemoaned over the treatment of the rulers of the Zone. He loved the stories his mother told of her childhood in this faraway land, stories that gave him wonderful things to dream about, instead of work, and pain, and more work.

The young woman smiled at him, and held a finger to her lips. "Shhh." It was a long, drawn out hush, and he nodded at her, wide-eyed. The guard in front of her waved the two women forward, his blue eyes lingering on the princess as she moved around a corner and out of sight. He stayed until last, nodded at the boy, shushed him the way the princess had. The boy only nodded, barely able to contain his excitement.

When the strangers had disappeared, the boy turned tail and ran to find his mother.

* * *

_- The Underground Complex -_

* * *

Azkadellia nearly cried out with relief at the sight of her sister and mother. Too stiff and scared to give much greeting, they stood silently together, leaning on each other, listening as their next step was discussed by their escorts.

"The card opens this door," Jeb told his father. He held the plastic key in his hand, tapping it against the opposite palm. "But there's no guarantee that it\s going to get us out the front door, or any other surface exit."

Wyatt Cain sighed deeply, hands on his hips. His head was down and he was deep in thought. Whatever move they made, valuable seconds were being wasted standing there. They'd come close to the Commander already; the burly outlander had nearly crossed their path on their way to the meeting point, and he was eager for it not to happen again. Even the rifles two of his men carried might not be much use against an outlander's tough hide; he had no idea, having never come up against one before. Rogue outlanders sometimes popped up in rural areas of the Zone, generally to cause trouble, but his detail had always kept him in Central City, and no outlander was fool enough to enter there.

"There has to be some sort of loading dock," he thought out loud after a moment. "A supply hatch, maybe. Some out of the way exit to this place."

All the men double checked their weapons, and together the group left the tiny storage room and crept furtively down the hallway towards the stairs. Jeb used the access card, the door unlocked, and they ascended the stairs to the first level.

DG followed close behind Cain, trying to calm her pounding heart. The close call with the Commander and the slave boy had her nerves rattled. Moving from one shadowed corner to the next, trying to keep footsteps quiet, the entire group moving as one onward, without knowing where they were going. They numbered too many, would draw too much attention. Why didn't they run into anyone?

_They must be searching the lower floors for us,_ was the only answer she could give herself.

They came across a large intersection, a meeting of five corridors. Cain swore, and backtracked the group to a small alcove where a few maintenance boxes hung on the wall. Pvt. Burrows smashed out the light, throwing them all into shadow and darkness. The sudden loss of the light made DG's throat close up, and she found the wall again, leaning on it for support.

Jeb and Burrows went forward to scout the hallways, moving quickly and with soldier's stealth. Cain watched the hallway after the two younger men had gone, holding out an arm to stop anyone from moving forward... _As if any of us would sneeze without you giving us permission, Cain_, DG thought with a roll of her eyes. Everything teetered on edge, and even a simple jest in her head felt like too much.

"Az," DG choked out.

Her sister came to her side, putting a comforting hand on her shoulder. "We're almost out of here, DG," she said.

"If we can find the way out," DG whispered, trying not to let her mother hear... or Cain. She was only brave because they expected it of her, she would gladly curl up on the floor and have a good cry if there was time for it, just for the release. The weight of the Emerald in her pocket, however slight, felt like too much, and she didn't know how to bear it with grace or dignity. She could only face this with stark acceptance, and take everything as it came... it was a familiar, comfortable feeling, but it didn't make her feel any better.

"DG, darling, do not think pessimistically," her mother admonished, but the Queen wore a gentle smile.

Footsteps were running towards them, but Cain's stature didn't change, and DG knew it was only one of the others returning; Jeb, she knew, once he started speaking.

"I found the main exit," he told the others. "It's heavily guarded. Even if we managed to overpower them, there is no telling if the key we have will open the door or if any one of them holds the right key."

DG groaned. More bad news. She found herself thinking back to Glitch, on their previous adventure; her friend who had always known something about what to do next, whether it irrelevant or frivolous, at least it was always _something_. With his brain back in his head, he would have been an amazing ally to have at the moment. Oh, she wanted to go home to Finaqua. She ached for her friends, her father... the suns, and the sound of the lake.

"We'll wait until Burrows returns, and we'll see what he was able to find," Cain said, directing his words and gaze to the Queen, but his eyes strayed to DG, who offered him a tiny, stretched smile. "If he doesn't find another exit, then..." he trailed off, unable to put into words what they would need to do. _Storm the front gate, and see if any of us lives long enough to check the guards for keys_, DG thought bitterly.

Her mother was beside her, a gentle touch on her wrist. "DG, you've been having dreams," she said matter-of-factly.

DG nodded slowly. More footsteps, running. Again, Cain didn't jump, didn't raise his gun. Burrows returning.

"Of the Gale? Of her capture, and escape?"

DG nodded again. "How do you know this, Mother?"

Her mother waved her off. "DG, darling. If you've dreamed of the capture of Dorothy Gale, of those past events, events that took place _here_! Think, darling. Did you dream her escape?"

DG's eyes widened. Could it be possible? She tried to wrack her mind, to bring forth hazy memories that weren't even her own. Gray hallways materialized in her mind, coming sharper into focus and then fading into black, then another hallway, vaporous at first, and then swimming into contrasting clarity. DG closed her eyes, tried to concentrate on the scenes that had played out in her sleep.

It was a strange feeling, like one of deja vu; a sense of semblance amidst the normal chaos of her mind. Swinging her head back and forth slowly, as if trying to coax the answer out, she tried not to grasp too hard, tried not to let it slip away. When she opened her eyes, her mother and sister were watching her expectantly. A quick look at the men showed her they were ignoring her, fighting in heated whispers about their next move.

She did what felt natural, what felt right; she bolted. Into the hallway, turning down the way that would lead to the five-way split. She heard both her sister and Cain call out her name, but she didn't stop; if she did, she might lose it, the faint, sepia map in her head. They were all running after her, trying to catch her, to stop her maybe?

When she reached the intersection, she cut straight across, then turned left at the next juncture. Cain called her name in a hoarse whisper again, barely heard over the sound of pounding feet. As Dorothy had shown her, she slipped right, down a few stairs, to a narrower corridor. Cain jumped the stairs, and caught her by the arm.

"DG, stop," he said, and held her firmly in place when she tried to pull away. "Where are you going?"

She glared at him impatiently. But when she opened her mouth to tell him that his disbelief was going to get them all caught or _killed_, a loud alarm cut through the air, blaring out like something out of an old war movie. Somewhere back the way they had came, above the stairs and around a corner, a red light flashed, casting its glow over the steps. Both DG and Cain stared at it, and when their gazes returned to each other, she couldn't believe how calm he looked in light of their new situation.

"Captain, let her be," the Queen spoke up, and even her demure manner could not cover the agitation in her voice.

"You trusted my instinct to follow Toto, just... okay, you said my dreams can't always mean something. I say you're wrong," she said, her eyes pleading with him. "I say I know the way." She pointed back the direction they had come, toward the flashing red lights. "Charge at the main exit, be my guest. I'm going this way." Reaching up, she gently pried his fingers from her arm, pushing his hand away, though wishing she could entwine their fingers and pull his body close to hers. Instead, she turned on him and left him, knowing that he wouldn't let himself get too far behind.

She walked at a brisk pace now, too unsure to run, scared to make a mistake. It became harder to remember, difficult to pluck the rights and lefts out of the panicked frenzy of her dreams. _Concentrate, DG_, she told herself. _Just a little further. How big can this place possibly be?_

Suddenly, their passage ended in a set of massive double doors. Bold letters were painted across the metal, spanning both doors: LOADING DOCK 3.

There was no keypad, no electronic lock. Only a ward lock under the handle, which look liked it required a very large key.

"Az!" DG exclaimed, reaching blindly behind her for her sister. After a moment, she felt her sister's warm grasp. DG held her free hand up to the door, hoping to unlock it, or even blast it right backwards, though the commotion from that would draw more attention... but nothing happened. The door stayed solidly in place, the lock made no sound.

Through the glass in the door, she could see another red light flashing. The sisters tried together, both holding hands aloft, white light glowing from beneath their skin, radiating in an aura above their palms; the windows shattered, and large dents appeared in the fortified metal, the sound of it reverberating off the walls. With a loud pop, the lock broke; DG reached forward and tried the door, and it pulled open freely, the handle rendered useless. She heaved the door open, and held it. Az and her mother passed through, and Jeb Cain stepped forward to take the door from her, to allow her to follow.

The room they entered was cavernous. They were on a scaffolding, overlooking the massive dock; huge slabs of cement laid in the floor, and at the far end of the room, the floor was dirt. Squinting her eyes, she saw the walls on the far end were rock, not manmade, glistening with water. A dark, narrow crevice cut vertically into the rock face, wide enough for one person but not for two, deep and foreboding.

"That's the way out," DG said, pointing. "It leads to the surface."

The noise they made running down the steep, metal staircase to the lower level was deafening, the clattering bouncing off the high walls. The pounding of their feet on the cement followed, then the scrape of their shoes on the dirt as they reached the end of the room. The walls had tapered off, the ceiling twenty feet lower than the loading dock; their trek across had been slowly uphill and they were breathless when they reached the rocks.

"We don't have any light," Cain muttered, "and I don't like the idea of walking blind into that dark hole." His gun was out of its holster, aimed into the darkness, waiting for something to come pouncing out. Nothing did, but he didn't lower his firearm.

DG grinned. Closing her eyes, a look of contentment crossing over her face, a small buoyant light lifted slowly out of her palm, resting unknown beneath her skin. Cain cocked an eyebrow, shifting his weight slightly as he watched it loll lazily around her head. Beside him, Azkadellia did the same, though her light was a little bigger, a little brighter.

"Good?" DG asked him.

Cain cast a sideways glance at the Queen, who was watching her daughters with a pleased expression on her face. Leading fearlessly, her little light guiding the way for the others, she entered the cavern, leaving the alarm and the complex behind.


	22. Chapter Twenty Two

**Author's Note**: Thank you to all my readers, reviewers, and subscribers.**  
**

* * *

**Of Light  
**

**Chapter Twenty Two**

* * *

_- The Underground Passage -_**  
**

* * *

DG was cold, and she was wet, and the tunnel seemed to stretch on forever. She'd expected a ravine, scattered with broken rocks and obstructions to climb over, but when they'd entered, they had found a smooth dirt road to follow, the walls curving upward above their heads. She did not see how high the ceiling was, if there was one at all; her little light shed enough light for them to see about two feet in front of them, and it was slow going.

DG and Azkadellia walked separated, trying to cast as much glow as possible. DG walked with her mother, every so often looking over her shoulder to see if the rest still followed; she couldn't see Cain, but she knew he was there, traveling last, constant and ever watchful of what lay behind.

"Mother," DG whispered, "you knew about my dreams." It wasn't a question, but a statement.

"Yes, my angel. Our ears of loyalty stretched far in that place. The servants were very willing to bring me news."

"The servants told you of my dreams?" DG asked, a little put off by this. If servants in an enemy fortress were spying on her for her mother, then she was going to have to watch her step once they were back safely among their own.

"A little kindness, DG, will go a very long way," her mother said with a smile. "Especially to those who live a life of mistreatment."

Something else troubled her. She looked quizzically at her mother. "You feel you could trust them? They were slaves, they could have been feeding you whatever the Commander wanted you to hear."

"No, the Commander would have wanted most fervently for your dreams to be kept secret from me," the Queen stated simply.

"But why?" DG hated this, the feeling of not knowing what was going on. Her ignorance of life on this side, of magic, and of everything else were an embarrassment, one that she faced constantly. And now in their current peril, it made her feel very, very vulnerable.

"Darling, your ancestor reaches out to you, to tell you _her_ story, maybe in hopes that it may be helpful to you, which it most certainly was, though her true intents I could never guess. More forces than these outlanders, than our own wills, are at work here, and the Gale is a powerful ally. The most powerful of the Light in our family's history. The very first." The Queen looked proud in the dim light, and DG almost smiled. She loved watching her mother, her poise under pressure an inspiration... or at least, enough of it to keep her feet moving forward.

She'd removed her shoes a while back, walking briskly now barefoot. They'd run at first, but the tunnel stretched on and on, and what was the point in running? Cain kept their pace fast and steady, so that they might not tire, become overrun and trapped. If they were caught, they would immediately be killed, a massive weight that hung over their heads and hurried their steps.

Ahead of her, Corporal Hass led the way; every time he looked over his shoulder, she could see that he was sweating. "Are you all right, Corporal?" DG asked him, noticing now his agitation more than ever.

He gave a stiff nod. "Yes, my lady. Just not liking this place much, I'll be glad to have it behind me," he said, his voice sounding strained, troubled. "Don't like a place where I can't really spread my wings safely, if you understand me."

"It is really spooky," she said, looking upwards into the unending darkness. The walls, and the unseen ceiling above dripped water onto them constantly, like a light shower on a spring day, only bone-chillingly cold.

_When will it end?_

They might have been traveling an hour, but none of them had a timepiece to refer to. After a little while longer, Azkadellia called for a break, sitting down unceremoniously on the ground, and taking her boots off her feet. DG sat down beside her immediately, glad her sister had been the one to say "stop" and not her. Their lights swam through the air around them, casting a tiny circle of light which none of the soldiers approached. DG looked up as Cain walked by her to speak to her mother. Swallowing her tension, the urge to reach out and grab his hand as he passed, she turned to her sister.

"How are you holding up?" she asked Az, who was now rubbing her feet.

Az made a sound in the back of her throat that sounded a bit like, "Myeh."

DG smiled. "Corporal Hass said the air is starting to clear a bit, and we should be out soon."

"And he would know?" Azkadellia asked, barely paying attention to her sister as she massaged her insole. "I think I'll walk barefoot too, these boots are killing my feet."

"I don't know how he knows, Az. His senses are probably heightened, the man does turn into a bird of prey when he shifts," DG said. Such terms were rolling off her tongue easier now, and she considered it a small triumph, a step in the right direction. As much as she didn't want it sometimes, life here went on, as it always did on the Other Side. Such things are universal, though she still didn't quite know where alternate realities fit into the universe.

"They'll be searching the woods for us," Az pointed out. "They'll know which way we got out, Deege, we damaged the door enough for it to be obvious."

"Well then we'd better be hurrying," said a voice from above them. DG looked up to see Wyatt Cain standing over them. Holding out his hands, he helped both sisters to their feet, bracing his arms to allow them to steady themselves on him. Az thanked him, and walked away, but he held tight to DG's hand for a moment when she moved to follow her sister.

"Your mother wants to speak with you," he said softly, letting her go. She nodded, not liking the shadows that cast across his face in the dim light, shadows that darkened his eyes, did not allow her to see the comfort and security that she'd always found there before. She walked towards her mother, the Tin Man following closely behind.

"DG," the Queen said, pulling her daughter away from the others. While they were illuminated by the light, easy for anyone to see, she kept her voice low. "You need to make a decision about the Emerald."

_The Emerald. _She'd forgotten all about it. She slipped her hand into her pocket, caressing its hard, warm surface. It was not smooth, and she found its roughness intriguing. She wanted to pull it out, take a closer and better look at it, but she dared not in the company of the others. The thing would put everyone at unease.

"I don't know what I'm supposed to do with it, Mother," she said. She expected that her mother would tell her exactly what needed to be done, but the Queen only shook her head, looking sad.

"DG, darling."

DG wracked her brain. "We can't take it to Finaqua with us," she said slowly.

Cain spoke up from behind her. "We aren't heading for Finaqua, we're going to make for Central City."

DG turned to him. "Why?"

"Finaqua is where they will expect us to go," he said. "Central City is farther, but better protected. Easier to find, too."

"Can we take it to Central City?" DG asked, looking inquiringly at her mother. But her mother shook her head. "Well, I would really appreciate it if someone would just _tell _me what to do, because my next instinct is to chuck it off the first cliff we find."

Her mother looked appalled, but from behind her, she heard Cain chuckle, a sound which he immediately tried to suppress with a cough.

"Darling," her mother said, "the Emerald must be returned to the Grey Gale. It is the only place it will be safe from the outlanders, for it is the only place they would never be able to find it. Outlanders excel in finding the things that others have tried to hide for themselves."

DG shook her head. "They'd catch us." Even to her, that much was plainly obvious. She didn't think that an outlander could sit on a horse, but they had an army of well paid human soldiers that would gladly swoop in on horseback and overtake them easily.

"Majesty," Cain said after a moment. "I think I might have a plan."

"Oh?" The Queen looked at him, impressed. "Tell me, Captain."

Cain cleared his throat. "If I'm not mistaken, your husband and your advisor have your entire army out in the forest lookin' for you. If one group heads in the direction of the river and Central City, a second group might just be able to sneak away unnoticed and return the Emerald."

DG was surprised. Cain's plan fell under the category of 'that is so crazy, it just might work!', and she cast a glance at her mother. The Queen was staring hard at the ground, as if studying the rocks and dirt. After a few very long moments, she sighed, nodding her head.

Cain continued, laying things out more carefully. "We'll dispatch Hass as soon as we reach the surface. It won't take him long to find the A.R., and he can lead them straight to your location."

"And which of your soldiers will accompany DG to return the Emerald? Alone, with only her magic as support."

DG hadn't realized until that moment that Cain's plan had involved _her_ being the one to wander alone into the wilderness to hopefully avoid being detected and followed. It would involve being separated from Azkadellia, the person who gave her magic any real strength, or confidence in her own ability.

_Time to step up and be a big girl, DG, _she thought. She frowned. _And none of this in the last month and a half has been considered being a big girl? Give me a break. _Please_, someone give me a break._ Immediately glad her mother couldn't hear her thoughts, she sighed.

She realized then that no one was speaking up, though her mother hadn't asked for a volunteer. DG looked directly at Cain, noticing the way he shook his head slightly, thinking in his own mind, staring at the ground; he didn't know she was watching him. She knew he wouldn't have suggested anything of the sort unless he himself had planned on taking action himself, and her heart swelled with emotion that was completely inappropriate for their situation. _There'll be time to swoon later_, she told herself. But her pessimistic brain added_... Hopefully._

"Cain'll do it, won't you, Cain?" DG said after a moment.

Cain raised his eyes to hers, staring at her, somehow intense and suppressed at the same time. She knew then he was struggling internally with things she shouldn't be pressing, and she felt angry at herself. "I mean –"

"No," Cain said firmly. "If your mother approves, it's our best bet."

"I don't like the idea of sending my little girl into such danger," the Queen said, wanting to make her point perfectly clear. "But unless our allies wait outside the exit to this squalid place, or unless we're captured and returned back to the prison, or killed in the fight before we reach the surface, it's our only choice."

Cain nodded, the finality of the gesture giving DG a chill up her spine. Cain called out an order for everyone to get back to walking, and she noticed worry etched into every part of his face. She wished she had words to offer him, wished she could reach out and put a warm hand on his arm, the mere touch enough, but she couldn't. Instead, she swallowed down the unspoken words and unrealized gestures, and walked slowly forward into the unknown.

* * *

_- The Underground Prison -_

* * *

Down in the slave quarters, the Commander paced slowly before two human guards who shook on their knees before him, heads bent down in supplication.

"You _don't know_," the Commander said, his voice low.

"No sir," the two men said together.

"Was it the princesses?" The Commander prompted.

One man shook his head vehemently. "We don't know, sir. It... it came from behind."

The Commander stopped directly in front of the two men. He held his hands behind his back, glaring down at Incompetent and Useless. His men were searching the upper floors at that moment, but he stayed below, his curiosity getting the better of him. The humans prisoners and the Gale women would be found soon enough, this he would deal with now.

"Tell me again what you remember."

Incompetent cringed at the threatening edge in his commander's voice. "We were doing our rounds. Waiting for the caretaker to come with the meals for the prisoners."

The Commander nodded, still bearing down on his grunts. Incompetent continued, his voice wavering. "I heard a... a... a commotion. I went to check it out, and found him laying on the floor, knocked out." He nodded at Useless, who cowered lower at his own mention.

"Who hit you?" the outlander asked the second man.

Useless shook his head. "Don't know, sir. Hit me from behind, on the head."

"One blow?"

Useless nodded. He didn't dare a look up at his commanding officer, but he felt like his head was pressed to the chopping block, and the axeman stood in front of him. His life was on the line, and there was nothing he could do to save himself if it was decided that he was to die.

"I was running to the guard room," Incompetent spoke up. "I was going to call for back up, but..."

"But you were struck, as well." The Commander's voice sounded bored and unimpressed with the entire situation. "And when you woke up, the prisoners were gone and the weapons locker was ransacked."

The two men nodded in unison.

The Commander hauled the two men to their feet by the collars like chastised children. Setting them roughly on their feet, he stalked away, barking a hash command for them to follow. Only a few paces down the hallway, hear the door to the stairwell, he stopped. The cement wall was singed with ash. The Commander rubbed his fingers along it, the scrape sending shivers down their soft, human spines. The Commander's fingers left clean trails in the black soot.

"Physical blows," the Commander said slowly. "And yet, here is evidence that the princesses were here, and that they used their magic."

There were no words. The entire situation made no sense. The unconscious bodies of the two men were the only ones found in the hallway. This damning evidence bode very badly for their situation; Incompetent began reciting all the prayers he could remember from his childhood, preparing to die.

But death did not come. "Someone," the Commander said slowly, "took you two out and released the prisoners. Who the princesses met when they came down here, I couldn't fathom. But what I _do_ know is that you two thin-skulled humans will return to my domains where you will work in the ruby mines until you drop dead from exhaustion. Or maybe you'll work until you're old men and your flesh falls from your bones."

With a snap of his fingers, two well-armed, well-favored human guards stepped forward out of the small command room. Useless and Incompetent were seized around the arms.

"Take these two down to the dungeons," the Commander said dismissively. "Let's see if we forget them when we abandon the base."

The two men were hauled away without much fuss. The Commander stood for a while, studying the scorch mark on the wall. This baffled him, like finding a puzzle piece mixed up in the wrong box. He was about to call for someone to fetch this floor's caretaker when the door behind him swung open, and he was faced with a breathless guard.

"Sir!"

The Commander nodded at the young man. "What is it now?"

The human looked fearful. "Sir, the Queen has been removed from her chambers, her guard subdued just as the ones in this cell block."

The Commander nodded. So the two stupid humans would have another person to share their misery with. The mines were always in need of strong bodies, and the capture of slaves was a slow and dribbling income. The news about the monarch, surprisingly, did not disturb him in the least.

But the human guard was lingering, trying to spit out his next bit of news. "What _is_ it?" the outlander demanded coldly.

"Sir, the security log reads that your security card was used to gain access to the first level."

This news was a little more disturbing. "Lock down the first level. I don't want anyone going in _or_ out."

The human guard swallowed hard. "Well... actually, sir..."


	23. Chapter Twenty Three

**Author's Note**: Thank you to all my readers, reviewers, and subscribers._  
_

* * *

**Of Light  
**

**Chapter Twenty Three**

* * *

_- The Underground Passage -**  
**_

* * *

They were entering their second hour in the tunnel. Cain rushed them, pushing the women until DG complained, but there was no way he could let them slow down. The alarms had been sounding when they'd found their way out, though how long until the Commander's forces found how they'd escaped was unknowable.

"Father," Jeb said in a low whisper, falling back a few steps to walk with Cain. Azkadellia was ahead of them, though far enough that they were in the darkness beyond the illumination of her wisp.

"What is it?" Wyatt asked, not looking at his son. What was the point? The only things they could see were the glowing beacons that were Azkadellia, and a little farther off, DG.

"Can I speak... uh, bluntly, sir?"

Cain smirked. "'Course you can. You're my son."

Beside him, he heard Jeb sigh, as if the boy were weighing his words carefully. "Well then... I don't think the plan you came up with is such a good idea."

"Oh? Why's that."

Jeb was silent again, as he continued to think of best how to put his opinions to his father. Cain shook his head, impatient. "State your case quick, kid, and get it over with, 'cause there isn't much you're gonna be sayin' to change my mind."

Jeb considered this. He remembered his mother had chastened his father on many occasions in his childhood. _You're a stubborn jackass, Wyatt Cain. _She'd called those exact words out after him the day he'd gone to meet the Longcoats on the road to their home.

He tried to keep his voice low, to stop the echo that might follow. "I just think it's a little... um, _stupid_ to take DG out there alone. At least take another of our men with you," he carefully suggested.

Beside him, his father sounded exasperated, the man who had gone over every option and had wheedled it down until only this one remained. Their best and worst plan. "No, the other men will be busy gettin' the Queen and the Princess Royal back to Central City. They need to be safe within the city walls, that's our first priority."

"There are too many flaws in this plan," Jeb pointed out.

Cain rolled his eyes. "Name one."

"You could be caught by the enemy. _We_ could be caught by the enemy. You and DG could get _lost_."

From ahead of them, Azkadellia stopped walking, so that after a few stride the Cains had caught up to her. "DG won't get lost."

Jeb was skeptical. "There's no guarantee of that. The second we get out of here, we're _all_ going to be lost. We have no idea where this tunnel comes out."

"The Emerald will lead DG back to the Grey Gale," Azkadellia said with a great deal of assuredness in her voice. "The captain will have his work cut out for him just to keep up with DG. She'll have an easier time than we will, even if we do find the river."

Azkadellia turned away from the men and walked away. The group was heading steadily uphill now, and after a few more minutes, one of the men in front called out for the group to stop.

Cain walked through the bodies milling around, to the soldier who'd given the order. But when he reached the front of the group, he saw exactly why without having to ask the question. They'd reached the end of the tunnel. It ended abruptly, the walls meeting in a circular room. A ladder was secured into the wall.

"Onwards and upwards?" DG asked from behind him.

Cain studied the ladder, heaved on it a few times, but it stayed fast in place. "I'm gonna head up."

"Wait, Captain," Azkadellia said. She turned to face him, holding her palm flat out in front of her. The little light slowly sank down until it hovered an inch above her skin. Azkadellia blew softly on the wisp, like one would blow on a bubble that had caught on a fingertip.

Cain nodded, and eyed the little light suspiciously. It floated in lazy circles around his head. He didn't like it; magic, by and large, wasn't something he really cared to be close to. But though they'd grabbed a rucksack to carry what supplies they'd been able to gather, he didn't know how he would climb a ladder holding a lantern aloft. This was a perfect solution. Cain gripped the ladder firmly, and ascended. Twenty feet, thirty. The little wisp bounced ahead of him, lighting where to next put his hands. The thing was annoying, distracting, and when it swam away behind him on its lethargic rounds, he was left seeing spots. He'd be glad to be rid of it as soon as possible.

A few feet from the top, the fresh air hit him hard and the unexpected burst of it nearly made him dizzy. He hauled himself up by iron handrails, onto a hard packed dirt surface. It was still black, but a few feet onward, the darkness fogged into a hazy twilight. The shadows of trees that hid the entrance to the cavern blew in a breeze, the sound of the branches scraping, leaves rustling putting an ache in his heart.

Without hesitation, though a little regretfully, he descended the ladder. There was too much distance between him and the others for them to hear him unless he shouted, and he didn't want to be attracting that kind of attention, if indeed there might be danger lurking.

Despite any danger, however, when he jumped the last few feet and landed before his company, he was smiling.

"Go," he said with a nod toward his soldiers. One by one, they all ascended. "Don't let that fresh air get to your heads. Wait at the top, near the walls. Don't touch anything."

DG, still waiting on the ground, looked at him curiously. "Why 'don't touch anything'?"

Cain was watching the others climbing slowly into the darkness. Azkadellia's wisp, which had returned to its master, was barely a pin prick of light high above. "The less that gets disturbed, the better." He watched as Corporal Hass took to the ladder, and when he was halfway up, Cain gave DG's sleeve a little tug, grabbing her attention.

"Your turn, Princess."

She tried to smile at him, but she couldn't hide her nervousness at the ascension placed before her. "Don't look up my dress," she said firmly, poking him square in the chest. Cain gave a breathy chuckle, not looking offended in the slightest. Her hands shaking, palms sweating, DG grabbed onto the ladder. She felt his hands on her hips, the weight of them heavy, comforting. He guided her first few steps.

"You okay?" he asked her, still holding on, looking up at her. She nodded, managed a real smile, and turned her attention back to the ladder and the climb. He released her as she rose out of his grasp, watching as each little shoe found the next rung. When she'd made it halfway, he hurried up behind her, glad to be out of the ground.

At the top in the small cavern, it was cramped. The Queen immediately sought him out.

"Captain, I would like a moment alone with my daughter."

Cain only nodded, and with a whistle to grab their attention, he led his troops out of the small cavern. Fighting through the thick stand of trees guarding the entrance to the cave was difficult, and his arms bore a few scratches when he was out in the clear. He could hear the others stumbling and cursing, breathing deep and eyes turning skyward as soon as they could. Knowing there was no time to moon over the breeze and the wet smell of leaves – though, gods, it was invigorating – he set about taking the pack from Burrows, and began to divide the supplies.

"Hass," he said without looking up. "Find us the direction of the river."

"Yes sir," came the reply, and moments later he heard the sound of wings beating the air.

Azkadellia knelt beside him then, shedding her light for him to see better his task. "Captain," she said slowly. "Are you prepared to follow her wherever she might lead you?"

Cain didn't respond, not knowing quite what to say; of course he was prepared to follow her, it wasn't even a question. Begrudgingly, he'd followed her north, rescued her and chased after her as she had sought out her trail of memories. To follow her now was only second nature. There wasn't anyone else he was quite ready to trust with the task.

"Captain Cain," Azkadellia said, lowering her voice. She reached out and stilled his hand over the buckle of the rucksack. He looked up at her expectantly, impatient. Immediately, she retracted her hand. "Listen. She's going to sound crazy out there. Your instinct might even tell you she's going the wrong way. She won't be, and you need to trust in that."

Cain sighed. "Azkadellia." The name came out of his mouth forced, short. "You have nothin' to worry about. We'll get it done quick, easy, and we'll meet you in Central City."

Azkadellia shook her head and stood. "I wish you luck, Captain."

A few feet away, Cain could hear DG extracting herself from the tangle of brush and branches with a loud grumble. His ears keened to the sound of her inhaling deeply the wide open space around them. He imagined her arms stretched, head tilted back, and in his mind's eye, she was smiling. The darkness was thickening, and he guessed the time to be near nine in the evening.

A black shape dove down from above, landed a few feet near him. The shape grew into a man, and spoke. "Sir, the river is due east. About thirty minutes' walk." Hass pointed through the ghostly half-light. All around them, the trees stood sparse, and would make travel easy... for now. He was antsy to get moving, and stepped up to the side of the monarch, who was still whispering with her daughter.

"Everything will be fine, Mother," he heard DG say, but when she saw him approach, she silenced. The rustle of fabric followed as the two women embraced, then separated.

"Captain, you will send the corporal now. His orders are to find trustful allies, to inform them of our plight." Though Cain could not see the features of her face, he saw her head nod at her own decision. "Yes," she said after, reaffirming her orders. The Queen's calm composure was returning, and she put his worries at ease.

"If you follow the river until morning, my men know the countryside well enough that one of them will know where exactly you are," Cain explained to her. "You'll probably cut across country; Jeb will keep everyone off the road. We don't want to draw any unnecessary attention."

The Queen nodded again, breathing deeply. "There will be an escort waiting on the ridge to accompany the princess and yourself to Central City," she said confidently. He hated it – _hated it_ – when people spoke so hopefully of the future, making promises of things that weren't yet a sure thing. But he only thanked her, turned away, and tracked down his son.

"You need to get a move on," he said.

"Well then, meet you in the city," Jeb said. He did not embrace his father, only nodded with his hands stuffed in his pockets, and turned to walk away.

"Hey," Cain hissed after him. Jeb stopped, pivoted to stand at lazy attention, and though the shadows fell across his son's face, Cain could swear he _heard_ the kid smirk. "Keep a close eye on Azkadellia," Cain told him. "She's bound to attract just as much trouble as the other one."

Jeb laughed, nodded, as if taking his father's advice into careful consideration. He called an order to the other soldiers, and moved to the side of Azkadellia, who was talking in hushed tones to her sister. Jeb leaned over, whispered something to Az, and with a little cry, the older sister embraced the younger, before turning determinedly on her heel, following behind Jeb. The others fell into step, and at a quick pace, they were enveloped by the darkness and disappeared.

Cain listened until the stir of the group moving through the brush and trees died away. He heard DG drifting towards him, dead leaves crackling softly under her bare feet. "Hass is waiting for you," she said quietly. She watched as Cain walked over to the last soldier, gave him his orders, and with a contorted 'whoosh', the corporal shifted. The small shadow took off, and though she tried to keep her eyes trained on him, she lost him in the darkness.

Cain walked slowly over to her. A breeze lifted her hair away from her face, cold breath that gave her goosebumps. She was suddenly aware that they were dreadfully, palpably alone.

The falcon's cry, lonely and shrill, cut through the air. Oh God... gods?... how had it come down to this?

"We have to move fast, DG. So which way?" he asked her after a moment. His deep voice rumbled through her, familiar and comforting.

She turned toward the silhouette next to her that could have been someone else, for all she knew, if not for that voice. She didn't like the dark, and even with the breeze, the sound of the trees, the feel of nature under her feet, she didn't feel any better than she had underground. In fact, if it were possible, she felt worse.

Cain cleared his throat, and she realized that he was waiting for an answer. _Right, back to work. Can't stand around_. "Um," she said slowly. She closed her eyes and concentrated on the weight of the Emerald in her pocket, as tiny and barely there as the thing was.

She tried to remember what her mother had told her in the cave, after the others had left them alone. "The Gale was chosen long ago as its guardian. This back and forth handing over pales in comparison to being _marked_ by the Emerald. Use your Light, darling, and listen to your heart. Try now."

DG had felt a little silly, trying to feel the connection between Dorothy Gale's spirit and the stone in her pocket. But after a few minutes, a curious thing had happened. It was like... hearing music, drifting in from far away, words and tunes lost into just a simple hum of noise, rising and falling like breathing. She had cocked her head, trying to better hear. Lazily, her wisp was floating circles around her head, and in its glow, she could see her mother, a brilliant smile on her beautiful face.

"Can you hear it?" her mother had asked.

DG nodded slowly, and when she lost her focus, her wisp dissipated, tossing the two women into darkness. "But what does it mean?"

"The Light will always cohere you to this connection as long as you hold the Emerald," her mother had said. DG's brow had furrowed, her mouth quirked in a displeased little frown. _She's making it sound like I'm borrowing a neighbor's Internet or cable. _

Concentrating now, as she had then, she heard it, like static. _How will I know which way to go? Why didn't I ask Mother?_ She turned in a slow circle, until the faint whisper became a low murmur; though she could barely discern why it sounded any different... she just knew it was.

"There won't be any time to doubt yourself," Az had told her, before Jeb had led her away. "Just trust."

So she did. DG opened her eyes, and raised her arm. She pointed in a direction... whatever direction it was, her best guess was _maybe_ south. "That way... ish."

Cain sounded unimpressed with her answer. "'-ish'?"

She shrugged, even though she knew he couldn't see her. She put the too-small slippers back on her feet, heaved a deep sigh, and started walking, trying not to stumble too much on the unfamiliar terrain. As he always had, Cain walked a few steps behind, ever vigilant, ever constant, ever there.

* * *

_- The Underground Complex -_

* * *

His plans were unraveling fast.

"How is this _possible_?" he asked. Cowering around him, his men said nothing.

_Five_ loading docks, in different areas of the first level. Locks smashed, windows broken, dented inwards by incredible force on _every... single... _door.

Lt. Shore was standing before him, examining the damage on the door to Dock 4, his ears glad the Commander had given the order to silence the alarm. The outlander knelt down on the floor, picking up small pieces of glass in his rough hand. "Sir, I think you should take a look at this."

The Commander looked towards his lieutenant. "What?" he demanded sharply.

"This glass was smashed with a blunt object. Look at the size of these shards."

The Commander held out his hand, and his soldier dumped the glass into his hand. Studying them, finding nothing of interest, he dropped them dismissively onto the floor. "What of it, Shore?" He was growing painfully impatient of the entire situation. "I want parties dispatched out of every dock to the surface. We must overtake them soon or it isn't going to happen at all."

"But sir, just look for a _moment,_" Shore said adamantly. He needed to redeem himself fast, or it'd be a firing squad when they returned back over the mountains. The evidence he was trying to present just might be enough to save his neck. "The glass on Loading Dock 3 was disintegrated like it had exploded from within. And look sir, the dents on this door are smaller than those on Dock 3."

The Commander looked at the door intently. Then he shook his head, laughing at his own stupidity. Lt. Shore shifted uncomfortably. "Clever, clever," the commanding officer said after another moment of his cold, grating laugh. His voice was a low grumble. "Send a raiding party upstairs to the entrance of Dock 3."

Lt. Shore nodded, and rushed away to deliver his commander's orders. After the second outlander had departed, the Commander turned back to the damaged set of doors, shaking his head in disbelief. A heavy object, one of the tools used by maintenance workers, perhaps, could have made such dents if wielded by a human hand. So they had a traitor in their midst... but that could be dealt with soon enough.

The clock was ticking to recover the Emerald, and despite his promises to the little princess about the lengths of his patience, he found himself growing very, _very _impatient...

He knew, without a doubt, that if the prisoners made it to freedom, they would make for their Shining City, their beacon on the hill. To intercept them would be no small feat. They had until the dawn, darkness their only ally.

Perhaps the little witches didn't think he'd chase them upstairs, into the light of their double suns. But the light would not save them. They underestimated the lengths that he would be willing to go to regain the treasure of his family, the broken pride of his grandfather.

Time was wasting.


	24. Chapter Twenty Four

**Author's Note**: Thank you to all my readers, reviewers, and subscribers._  
_

* * *

**Of Light**

**Chapter Twenty Four**

* * *

_- The Banks of the River Nwyn -_**  
**

* * *

Jeb Cain had to admit, despite himself, that he was impressed with Azkadellia.

The group had found the river without any problem, but did not break the cover of the forest. They stayed in the darkness of the trees, hidden in shadow. A little before midnight, the moons rose, casting the glow of their sleepy, uneven eyes. Jeb could see well enough to move unhindered, though traveling with women slowed him down.

There weren't the type of women he was used to, not like his mother, with her practical, knowing way of doing things, nor like those he'd met during his time with the Resistance, hardened and weary. But Azkadellia and the Queen were not quite like he would have expected, either. The two knew they were a burden, and they bore it with dignity. Though their corseted, tightly garbed bodies looked delicate and demure, he soon found the women far from it.

When they'd stopped at the river, Azkadellia had sought him out. "Do you have a knife?"

He'd cocked an eyebrow, but complied quickly. Jeb watched in amazement as she'd carefully worked the point of the knife through the thick, stiff fabric of her skirt near her mid-thigh, slicing downwards to the knee, then ripping the rest with her hands, clean through the hem. She did the same thing on the other side, then handed him back the knife with a pleased smile.

"Thank you," she'd chirped. Dumbstruck, he'd nodded. "I want to be able to move easier. I'm not exactly dressed for hiking." She had gestured down at herself.

Not knowing what to say, he'd managed a "You're doing fine, your Highness."

Azkadellia had then looked like she had wanted to say something, but instead only nodded, turning and walking away. She'd called out the order, most politely, that she thought they were ready to move on. She and her mother began together, as they walked now, whispering quietly.

He watched them, walking a few feet behind. There was no clear cut path, and they all wove in and out as they found trees in their way. The ground was mostly free from brush and fallen logs, and the going was relatively easy. He guessed it to be around two or three in the morning.

There had been no sound of their enemy, no sound but the rush of water and rustle of wind around them. About an hour before, he'd stopped enjoying the beauty of the night, stopped noticing the little sounds of insects or the scurry of some small creature. Now, every sound he heard sent his heart pounding in fear of recapture. The breeze had ceased to invigorate him. Now, he was just cold.

More than a few paces ahead, the Queen and Azkadellia felt the drop in temperature, as well. They walked together, leaning close as they talked, unheard by Jeb who walked behind.

"Lieutenant Cain told me that they planned to move your father to Central City," the Queen whispered to her daughter. Yes, this was her dearest hope, that she could be reunited with him as soon as possible. She tried to push the thought, the distraction of him, away. "If we are found by the Army of Resistance before we reach the city, it is my immediate plan to set our troops to clear out the base of outlanders."

"If they haven't already abandoned it themselves, Mother," Azkadellia said. "We've been walking for hours, and we've heard nothing. We might just be getting away." She sounded thrilled.

The Queen shook her head. "No, that would present the possibility that they have followed after your sister and the captain, and that we do not want. The faster we get to Central City, the faster we can send troops to aid and fetch your sister."

Azkadellia nodded, suddenly remembering her sister. Her sore, cramped feet, and cold skin had made her forget almost everything except for _move forward. _ "Will we stay in Central City?"

Her mother nodded. "It's our only option. Once in the city, we'll be mired in the politics and paperwork of this entire situation. Not to mention the outcry if your father has made a public announcement."

Azkadellia glanced quickly at her mother. "Do you think he would?"

The Queen shook her head. "I do not think so, dear. Just one of the many parts of this plan, I made your father promise he wouldn't announce if anything should go wrong with this mission, unless he felt there was dire need for it."

"If Father makes a public announcement, the throne will be left vulnerable," Azkadellia said thoughtfully.

Her mother smirked, which curved her beautiful lips, made them unnaturally cynical. "Yes, the entire House of Gale is wandering through the western mountains. But the news from the young lieutenant of General Andrus pulling all forces out of the city worries me more. If Longcoat insurgents discovered this piece of information, they would launch a violent campaign, and undo everything we have tried to restore."

"I doubt Father would make a public announcement, even with an old bull like Andrus pushing him," Az said. She moved slightly to the right to allow a tree to pass through between she and her mother, but misjudged the distance in the dark, slammed it with her shoulder. Rubbing the offended spot, she lagged behind her mother.

"No, Ahamo will not easily cooperate with the general," the Queen said, not noticing her daughter had fallen a few paces behind. "Though I do wish to leave this dreadful journey behind, and return home to him. I do miss him so." Her voice was so wistful, so miserable that it was hard for Az to bear.

They continued on in silence for a long while. The only sound that accompanied them was the crack and stir of the soldiers who followed behind. A cough, a clearing of a throat, every once in a while one of them would whistle a few notes of a haunting little tune. No one spoke to each other, except for the two women. No one had anything to say, all too worried about the danger and the unknown and the darkness around them.

"I've come to a decision, Azkadellia," the Queen said in a hushed tone, quite a while later.

"Oh?" Az asked, distracted as she navigated over a fallen log without breaking her ankle.

The Queen nodded, stopping to wait for her daughter. "I do think that my time to rule has long since passed," she said, softly. "Had circumstances not been what they were, you would be Queen of the O.Z. right now, and I might be..."

"Elsewhere?" Azkadellia offered. Even in the darkness, her mother's smile glowed.

"The anniversary of the Eclipse, we shall hold your coronation," the Queen said. With every word, her voice grew stronger, cementing the idea in herself. "You will ascend to a very noble line. And the people will adore you, my daughter," she said, and hugged Az when she saw the mask of worry on her daughter's face. When she let go, she continued to walk, sweeping through the dry leaves and past the trees with grace. Az, however, stayed behind, staring at the river, and the moons glinting on its surface.

The soldiers caught up with her. Seeing the blank expression on her face, Jeb ordered the other two to follow the Queen, who still moved determinedly on. "Are you okay?" he asked after a few minutes, when it became clear that she would neither talk nor look at him. "We have to keep moving, your Highness."

"Why?" Az asked him sharply. "Shouldn't we be seeking out these outlanders? Distracting them from following DG and your father?"

Jeb shook his head. "Our orders are to get you and the Queen to Central City as soon as possible, so that your mother's power can be reestablished."

Az shook her head. "This was all for nothing."

"No," Jeb said, giving her arm a tug to get her moving, but she stood, planted into the ground. He sighed, frustrated. Az's strong, beautiful features were dragged down by something he couldn't identify. Not fear, or worry, or doubt, but something deeper, something that almost looked like it was consuming her. "Look," he said, trying to catch her eyes. She cast them away repeatedly until he stopped. Again, he sighed, and at the sound of it, she looked at him; he caught her dark gaze, and she didn't look away. _At least I have her attention_, he thought. "Look," he repeated. "We need to get to Central City. And to do that, you need to walk."

Az sighed a trembling breath, one that shook with the onslaught of tears. She looked down, ashamed, and touched the sleeve of her gown to one eye, and then the other. "I'm sorry," she said. "It's just more bad news, that's all. Nothing I can't handle. I'm sorry."

Jeb nodded, and began to follow behind the others again, but she caught him by the arm. Curious, he turned.

"Do you trust yourself to always do the right thing, Lieutenant Cain?" she asked him.

A strange question. He cleared his throat. "Um, first off, it's Jeb. And second, I follow my gut, and whether or not that's the right thing, well... by that time I'm usually in to deep to do anything but fight, right or wrong."

Azkadellia considered his words. "Your instinct is what caused you to follow DG?"

Jeb laughed. "Well, in all honesty, DG and I had pretty much the same idea. The general was wasting time, so she took matters into her own hands. She needed help... that sounded like the right thing to me."

Azkadellia nodded.

"And," Jeb said slowly, "my father might never have forgiven me if I'd let her wander off by herself."

Az cocked her head to the side, wonderingly. "What do you mean?"

Jeb smirked. "He's got a bit of a soft-spot for DG, I think. He usually does for the things that frustrate the hell out of him. Or at least he did, when I was a kid..." The conversation trailed off there, and Az knew better than to pry, though having her suspicions confirmed about the relationship between her sister and the ex-Tin Man certainly put her mind to work.

Something caught her eye then, something that wiped DG and Wyatt Cain completely from her mind. Through the trees, a good distance away, she saw light. Not any ethereal, summoned light, no... but the light of torches, and of lanterns, so many that her eyes darted back and forth trying to count them all. Jeb had noticed them too, and with a hard yank, he grabbed her arm and pulled her along towards the others.

"_There they are!"_

* * *

_- The Wilds of the West - _

* * *

Deep in the trees, DG walked a few paces ahead of Cain, following a trail she couldn't see.

The absurdity of the entire situation struck her as funny. She _had_ to find it funny, after all, or she might just collapse in a heap of tears and sniffles, and that wasn't something she was willing to do on Wyatt Cain's watch. Things had changed, and they had changed _drastically_, in the last few days between the princess and her guardian. The waves of up and down between them now, however, had stilled, and now instead of smooth sailing, she found herself lost in a fog of her responsibility and duty versus her heart and mind.

Thank goodness she was stubborn, or one side might be winning out.

They hadn't spoken in over an hour, and she couldn't remember the last time she'd looked back at him. Only the assurance of each other's company held the words at bay, but only for so long, after all. She was curious, she was nervous, and his stolid presence, while comforting, was also intimidating.

"I can't take it anymore!" she declared.

"What, your feet?" he asked, sounding concerned.

She stopped and turned to face him. He nearly slammed right into her at her sudden cessation, and he grabbed at the trunk of a nearby tree to stop himself falling on top of her completely.

_That would have broken the tension_, she thought with a naughty grin, but it didn't cover her indignation. "What do you mean, my feet? I can handle sore feet, okay?"

"Well then, what can't you take anymore? And why the hell did you stop?"

"I can't take _this_!" she grumbled, gesturing with her hands, pointing to him and then herself, and she hoped the reason for her flailing was translated in the dark. "This not talking. It's driving me crazy."

"We're talking now," he said slowly. She could hear him smiling, though the darkness was so thick that she could have stuck her tongue out at him and he'd never have known.

"Damn you, Wyatt Cain," she grumbled, and turned to start walking again. Almost immediately, she found herself facing a solid obstacle. A tree, the girth of the trunk so impressive that she thought her arms might not even reach halfway around if she were to try.

"DG," came his soft, deep voice from behind her.

She sighed, and reached out to the tree, folding her arm against the fissured trunk so that she could lean forward to rest her forehead upon it. "I need a break for a minute," she said, suddenly embarrassed, suddenly exhausted. She kicked her shoes off without lifting herself off the rough bark. It felt good, natural, and she tried to push away thoughts of ants, and other crawly things. She was just too tired to care.

"You're pushin' yourself too hard," he told her after a few moments of quiet. "And you're pushin' _this_ too hard." She blew air through her lips, a wordless exclamation of denial.

"I'll be okay. It... it will be okay," she whispered, trying to convince herself, as well as Cain. Oh, how she wished she could see him, his face and his eyes. To know what he was thinking, if his words were just words or if he truly _meant_ them, she had to see those cool blue eyes. He could say anything to her now, his voice always calm and steady, and she would be none the wiser to his true intent. His voice could betray him, but his eyes... his eyes would never lie to her.

"No, I mean it," he told her. "You need to calm down or else you're not gonna be much use."

She rolled her eyes, the gesture lost to him, but it sure as hell made her feel better. She was tired, without sleep, and growing increasingly... _bitchy_. "Cain, I'm fine. Trust me. You're right, though. My feet do hurt." Still leaning against the tree, bare feet up to the ankles in ground cover, she thought that she might fall asleep there, and stay forever. Damn the Emerald, damn those that chased them... and damn Wyatt Cain.

"DG," he said again, her name sliding off his tongue so easily, she could have found herself falling. But no, she was too mired in reality to even let the ever daunting tone of his voice sink in. Reality dictated that she was cold, that her feet and legs ached, that her arms were scratched and probably bleeding. Reality would not let her have this moment, this time alone with him, even though she'd dreamed of it since leaving Central City a month and a half before.

"Just... leave me alone, Cain. I said I'm fine!"

His heavy boots crackled the leaves underneath his feet as he stepped closer, until he was directly behind her. In the dark, his hands found her waist, his fingertips ghosting up her sides, then back down. A strong arm encircled her waist then, pulling her away from the tree and back to him, until she was pressed against his chest. The heat off him was too much, her stomach immediately knotting.

"Darlin'," he said, slow and purposeful, and for the life of her, she couldn't remember hearing anything so erotic the whole of her life. His head was bowed, his mouth near her ear, his breath blowing softly onto her neck. God, she might die. "I won't take you here." Her heart jumped... _take_ her? His large, rough hand slid up her bodice, cupping her breast, covering the entirety of it with his splayed fingers. "This deserve more than a quick moment up against a tree," he told her.

Leaning her head back into his shoulder, she nodded. He continued, moving his hand away from her breast to rest on her stomach, holding her up against him... as if she'd ever try to get away. "DG, I've been getting the feelin' that you're a touch angry with me."

She sighed. She might get angry right away if he didn't stop playing these silly games with her. "I'm not _angry_. I just... I wish I knew what to think."

"About what?"

She considered this for a moment. Discussing how she felt had always come easy with Cain, but now she found her words were sticking in her throat, too important to toss around lightly. Well... honesty was the best policy, wasn't it? "About what's been going on between us since we left the Tower. And before that," she admitted to him, knowing that this was about more than just their recent naughty explorations of each other. She turned in his arms, wanting to see his face so badly, it ached. She inhaled a shaky breath, and waited for his response.

It came slowly, every word stated carefully, well thought out, weighted with the same seriousness with which he said everything else. "I've got a pretty good idea of what's been going on. I thought you did, too."

She felt her mouth quirk in a disappointed smile. "I thought I did, but you're hard to read, and..." She didn't know quite how to tell him about all the doubts she had. "And then back in your..." she trailed off then, giving up completely on trying to tell him anything. She couldn't bring up that small, dark place, no matter what had taken place there.

Cain sighed deeply, a growl catching in his throat. "I told you it wasn't the right time, and for now I'm gonna have to stand by that." His words were forced, as if they were painful to say, and he wanted to make himself perfectly clear because he wasn't going to say it again. His hands on her hips gripped at her, indenting her soft flesh. Despite his words, he was pulling her closer, so that their bodies pressed together once again.

DG nodded, trying to understand, and she found his shoulder, laid her head upon it, burying her face in the rough material of his tunic. Underneath her cheek, his heart was pounding. She slid her hands up his chest to his shoulders, pulling her fingernails along, feeling the firmness of him, but he caught her hands in his. Holding her hands like a wall between them, he stopped her.

"Don't make this hard on me," he said firmly, and she knew then whatever spell had fallen over him had come to an abrupt end. Strangely accepting of this fact (had she just gotten a glimpse of the man hiding behind the gruff, stoic exterior?), she backed away.

With her back against the tree, DG took a few deep breaths, found her shoes by feeling around with her feet, and then slipped her toes inside when she had found them. She'd taken to walking on the backs on them, instead of putting her entire foot in, to save herself scraping the skin off the entire back of her foot.

"We've got a few more hours to travel before we can stop and get a few hours shut eye," he told her after a few minutes of silence. Perhaps he'd had to gain his own composure, but she wasn't sure she dared let herself think she had that much of an effect on him. _But maybe..._

She nodded, making a little 'mmhmm' of affirmation. He'd just promised her sleep, she'd agree to almost anything. She'd even put this on hold for now. In the darkness, with just enough light from the moons to see the shadowy shapes a foot in front of her face, she had to take a moment to find her direction. She concentrated, listening.

"You ready?" he asked her.

"Yeah," she said, and with a deep sigh, she skirted the tree that had offered so much support, and together they moved on.


	25. Chapter Twenty Five

**Author's Note**: Thank you to all my readers, reviewers, and subscribers.

**Warning**: This chapter contains material that is rated **M**, **NSFW**, or my personal favourite, **NNA**._  
_

* * *

**Of Light**

**Chapter Twenty Five**

* * *

_- The Banks of the River Nwyn -**  
**_

* * *

Jeb had her by the hand and they were running, running... branches whipped against her face, her lungs burned and threatened to fail. She couldn't remember the last time she had run... perhaps before the possession, before DG had been sent over. She forced her legs to keep up as she was dragged through the trees at a pace she couldn't have possibly kept up by herself. Where he was running to she didn't know, but he could lead her anywhere as long as he kept her safe.

Beside her, around her, the others ran. Someone helped her mother, Pvt. Burrows perhaps; the only knowledge that her mother was still there the gleam of the beads on her dress in the moonlight as they ducked between and around trees.

"Where are we going?" Azkadellia asked, trying to find her voice amid her ragged breathing.

"Away from here," came the only response from Jeb. His grip on her hand was tight, sweaty. Their fingers were entangled, and he pulled her along, weaving around one solid tree and then another. She tried to concentrate on every step landing properly, concentrated on not falling.

Az dared a glance behind them. Through the thick growth, the lanterns and torches chased them. Men were shouting, calling out to each other far behind, and even over the pounding of her feet, the pounding of her heart, she heard them. She was terrified, each breath catching in her throat; she almost had to force each new one.

"Was this part of the plan?" she asked him, ducking down with remarkable reflex to avoid a low hanging branch.

Ahead of her, she heard him chuckle. "No, but it's fun, isn't it?"

She found herself laughing too, a bit hysterically. _Fun?_

"To the left!" McLauren shouted. Az's head snapped sharply in the direction called out. Their pursuers were closing in on them, catching them fast, trying to trap them with their backs to the river. The river, too fast flowing to enter, too wide and deep to cross. The river, their salvation that would become their undoing.

_I can't run anymore... gods, I can't do this..._ her own voice was ringing in her head.

"Stop!" called out a voice from behind them, one that caused her ears to perk curiously. She felt her legs slow on their own, until the connection of her arm and Jeb's became tight, recoiled, and broke. She stumbled, and Jeb swooped down on her immediately.

"We have to _move_!" he shouted at her. But she shook her head.

"No, we don't!" she told him, hastily clambering to her feet. The shout tumbled out of her mouth before she could stop it, barely able to form her lips around the word through her labored breathing. "Ambrose? Ambrose!"

The shouting all around them stopped. Az turned her head to see her mother stop running far ahead, double back a few steps before collapsing against a tree, gripping the trunk for support. She was speaking to Pvt. Burrows, then walked unevenly towards her daughter.

Jeb was squinting through the trees as the lights came closer. "Your Majesty!" called out the same familiar voice, and Az's heart swelled with hope.

"Ambrose!" she called again, and suddenly, her legs were too rubbery to hold her up. Almost falling to the ground, she tried to catch her breath. Jeb knelt down, a hand on her shoulder, as he watched the lights come ever closer. Voices were calling out, more than she could possibly count. But three words rang through the night, so loud and clear and true that it made the entire ordeal disappear in a wisp of smoke.

"_We've found them!"_

A body fell down in front of her, almost as out of breath as she. Ambrose's pale face was captured in a gigantic smile, one without dignity or composure, the pure abandon to his happiness etched in every corner of his expression. Az found herself smiling too, his happiness so contagious that she laughed.

An hour later, the company of five was escorted on horseback to the A.R. camp. The men all bowed to their monarch and the heiress to the kingdom. Both women nodded appreciatively, both in a bit of a daze, both exhausted, drained. Near the edge of the camp, Jeb Cain alighted his mount, handed over the reins to a waiting private. Walking slowly behind his two charges, he felt a hand catch him on the arm.

"Andrus wants a word with you," said the voice. Jeb turned to see Ambrose, the advisor, watching him sympathetically. Jeb only nodded, surprised that it had taken Andrus this long to get this message to him. When the search party had found them in the forest, he'd half expected Andrus to come stalking out of the line of men to hand down retribution as swiftly as possible. _Oh well, maybe he just wants to savor the moment_, Jeb thought with a smirk.

Andrus' tent was larger than all the others. Jeb entered quietly, not bothering to announce his presence.

The general looked up from the small table in front of him. Scattered with maps, the mess on the table was nothing compared to the haggard appearance of the man that stood behind it. Andrus looked without rest, without sustenance, without peace. _Bastard probably hasn't slept since the royals went missing Monday._

"What time is it?" Jeb asked him, trying to break the tension of who would speak first. In his head, he tried to rack up his guilty charges. Disobeying direct orders, endangering the life of a princess (though whose fault that one was, he thought was debatable), abandoning said princess (again, debatable)...

Andrus sighed. "I should have you _hanged_."

Jeb chuckled. "What would be the fun in that? You like me."

The general was shaking his head in angry disbelief. "Cain," he said slowly. "You seem to be missing something."

"Oh? I don't think I am. Okay, my uniform got left behind, but honestly, it was for the better. Let me tell you this, its a really good story –"

Andrus cut him off. "When you showed up at Finaqua, I put you in charge of something very important."

Jeb's jovial mood immediately dropped with this. "Oh... right. That."

"Where is the princess? There should be _two_ here, and yet I see only _one._" The general nodded through the open tent flap, where across the camp they could see Azkadellia talking to Ambrose. She looked like she were swaying on her feet, but that was no wonder. They were all tired, and Jeb was quite looking forward to finding a tent and a sleeping roll once he got through Andrus' sorry excuse for a debriefing.

"I don't know where DG is," Jeb said slowly. "You'll have to talk to her Majesty if you want the details of that plan."

Andrus clicked his tongue impatiently. "You're going to the Tower. I want you on guard duty in the dungeons, and you'll depart at first light. You are dismissed."

Jeb turned on his heel, biting his tongue as he left the general. Arrogant bastard, the worst kind. Yes, he, Jeb, was arrogant, but he wasn't a _bastard_, not like Andrus. A bit of a _rascal_, maybe... he smirked, thinking of all the times his mother had shouted that very word to him as he'd cut across the yard, running from her and her reprimand.

When she saw him, Azkadellia walked towards him. She stayed near the edge of the firelight, and her hands were at her sides; it took him a moment to realize she was holding the sides of her torn dress together, modest now in the company of so many people.

"Jeb," she said softly, smiling as he approached her. "It all worked perfectly. Hass found the camp... told them where we'd be. And we ran like fools." She laughed then, a small quiet laugh. He was silent, not knowing quite what to say to her, surprised that she'd even walked over to see him.

Az noticed that he wasn't speaking, and decided to keep going, wishing that she'd find something he would respond to. "We're leaving for Central City, as soon as the Queen has a conference with the general. We won't stay in the camp overnight, Mother wants us to move to the city as soon as possible." Az smiled at him again, trying to coax him. She leaned in close to whisper in his ear. "I think she misses my father."

Jeb shook his head. "I wish you a safe journey, my lady."

Az's brow furrowed, confused by his distance. "Won't you accompany us to Central City?"

Again, Jeb shook his head, looking off a ways to the soldiers milling around, watching the princess out of the corners of their eyes, as they went about their tasks. Turning back to Az, he shrugged his shoulders. "Andrus has already reassigned me. I'm on prison duty at the Tower."

Azkadellia rolled her eyes, her mouth quirking to the side in an unimpressed way. "No, you'll come with us to Central City."

"Your Highness," he said, catching her eyes, but she looked back at him determinedly, her mouth set in a firm line. She shook her head, and then gave him a ghost of a grin, which quickly disappeared.

"You'll come with us to Central City, and stay on as my personal guard in the palace. That way," she said softly, touching his arm as she moved to walk past him, "you'll be able to see DG and your father the minute they are returned to the city. You don't deserve to get sent out to the Tower, not after all the help you've given us."

Jeb nodded his head appreciatively. "Then I would be honored, Azkadellia."

She smiled at him, noticing the way he had said her name, the kindness in his voice, something she had heard very little of underground. Walking away before she said too much, or before her face softened too much, she walked to Andrus' tent. Already the excitement of the forest was fading away, and her body was threatening to give out. _Just one last thing to take care of_, she thought with a small smile.

* * *

_- The Wilds of the West -_

* * *

With his back up against a tree, Wyatt Cain watched his princess sleep.

DG was curled up in a tangle of roots, laying on top of his service jacket. She'd fallen asleep fast, and every now and again she mumbled something he couldn't quite make out. Why he was watching her so intently, he didn't quite know. His eyes burned with exhaustion, but sleeping, for him, wasn't an option.

How this girl had unhinged him so, he didn't quite know... the tin suit she'd found him in wasn't the only prison he'd been trapped in. Though he mourned his wife, and loved her still, something had changed in the last few days that was turning everything he'd known around on him.

Adora wouldn't like it.

_Adora._

She'd want him to find happiness, of that he was certain. But hers was the voice of his conscience now, which rang clear as a bell inside his head, keeping him awake as he watched DG sleep.

_She's only a child, merely a few annuals older than Jeb._

Cain closed his eyes. Barely older than his son she might be, but she was definitely not a child, something he hadn't failed to notice; soft, white skin, her plump, pouty lips, small breasts that fit perfectly into the palm of his hand... no, she was not a child.

_She's a princess, how do you suppose to get around _that_ one?_

It presented a problem, one that he wasn't quite sure how to find an answer. An obstacle, though, no. He'd never been one to let silly little things stop him. Yes she was a princess... but she was a second daughter, about as headstrong and stubborn as he himself was. Yes, he was an ex-Tin Man, tarnished, possibly – probably – damaged beyond any hope of repair. But his heart was more than just a muscle working in his chest; it still beat, and he was still alive. And lately... lately he'd felt an ache in his chest that only seemed to surface when one certain princess was involved.

In her sleep, DG shifted, moaning in what he assumed was discomfort, but even such a simple sound slipping out of her mouth put him on edge. It wasn't right what she was able to do to him, what she could do without even trying. As a man, he prided himself on his restraint, his self-control always assured behind his eyes. Prisoners, he could interrogate without beating them, his son he'd always been able to control as a child without lifting a hand to the boy.

One impetuous little princess, and he was nearly coming undone.

The sky was lightening, but somewhere around five a.m., the clouds had begun to roll in. Now, the black sky fading into soft gray. It would be overcast, and they might see some rain. There was a bite to the breeze that filtered into the little copse he'd found for them to hide in. DG whimpered, her arm flying out, slamming hard into the tree under which she slept, but the impact didn't wake her. Concerned – yes, concerned – he moved over to her, ducking low to keep the low hanging branches off the top of his head.

Cain knelt down beside the sleeping princess, and touched her softly on the arm, calloused fingers sweeping over her smooth skin. "DG," he whispered.

She stirred at the sound of his voice, inhaling deeply as her dreams slipped away. Instinctively, she jerked away when she found him so near. "Is it time to go already?" she mumbled, her words running together in a tired slur.

"Not yet, darlin'," he told her with a soft chuckle. "You were dreaming, and it didn't look pleasant."

With another deep sigh, DG shook her head. She covered her face with her hands, brushing the sleep and her dream from her eyes. "Is it morning?"

"Near enough," he said. "Do you want some water?"

DG shook her head, pulling herself to sitting. "Not unless it's hot and in a bathtub." She closed her eyes, and stretched, arms reaching above her head, back arching. Her head fell back, her bare throat shining in the dim light. DG put a hand on the side of her head, rubbing the sore spot which had laid on the tree root she'd used as a pillow.

"We'll get movin' soon," he said, still kneeling beside her, but looking around. The protective circle of trees with their low hanging branches kept them out of sight, knowing that if they met anyone out in these wilds, hostility was pretty much a guarantee.

"You don't want to get going right now?" she asked, watching him carefully.

"No," he said with a shake of his head. "Give you a couple of minutes to wake up."

DG nodded gratefully, offering him a small smile. She nestled back into the tangle of roots, pressing her face against his jacket and closing her eyes. A couple of minutes... it wasn't much, but hey, when you were allowed to go back to bed, you took the opportunity.

She felt his hand on her leg, warm and solid. Her eyes drifted open again, and she found herself staring deep into his eyes. The hazy light allowed her to see his features for the first time since the darkness of the night before, and she thought, a little distractedly, how handsome he was.

"Cain," she said, but her voice faltered, any words that would come after were lost, evaporated in the heat of his steely eyes. She watched as he moved his position from one knee, to two... still watching her, he stretched his long frame out beside her, laying on his side, pressing his body against hers.

"What –" she began to ask, but again her words were lost... only this time, they were lost as his mouth caught hers, pulling her into a long, slow kiss. With one arm supporting his weight, his other hand was free to explore, sliding down her body and gripping at her hip, pulling her possessively closer. Her mind whirling at this unexpected turn, her common sense won out the battle for her tongue, and she pushed up on his chest, breaking their kiss.

"You told me not _six_ hours ago that it wasn't the right time," she told him, holding her hand firmly against his chest.

He smiled that stubborn Cain smile, the know-it-all stretching of his lips. "As it turns out, I can't help myself." The hand on her hip, slid underneath of her, lifting her towards him, the resistance of her arm pushing against his chest nothing compared to the pull of desire. He bowed his head to hers, holding his mouth, still smirking, a few inches from hers. "Is there a problem, Princess?"

Mutely, she shook her head, unable to speak, let alone think of something to say. _This is new_, she thought absently, as his lips found hers again, feeling a strange sensation in her stomach, like her abdominal muscles were shuddering with anticipation, with the heat of his embrace. Leaning over her, he laid her down, pressing onto her with his deliciously heavy weight. Yes, she'd been in this situation before, but never like this... embarrassed, she realized that he was going to ask, and she was going to have to tell the truth. Not very princess like behavior, now or then.

Kissing Wyatt Cain, she realized, was a euphoria beyond anything she'd ever experienced. His tongue danced along her lower lip, begging entrance, and her chin trembled as she complied. The touch of his tongue to hers was an electric shock, the taste of him sensual, rugged. She stopped trying to push him away, her hands sliding up to his shoulders, gripping both sides of his neck, pulling him towards her though it wasn't possible for him to get any closer.

He shifted, putting a knee between her legs, and his free hand slid away from her back, down past her waist, over the curve of her ass, his hand slipping under her dress to splay his fingers over her thigh; he pulled her leg upwards, hooking it over his hip. His hand drifted upwards, and he broke their kiss to hold her by the chin, his eyes searching hers as he bore down on her.

"DG, if we start this..."

She shook her head and offered him a smile. "We already did start this. Don't stop," she whispered. Compliant, he kissed her again, capturing her so quickly that he stole her breath away. His kiss was fierce, all walls and restraint gone.

DG gasped at the sudden shift, pressing her body greedily against his, moaning into his mouth. His hand returned to her thigh, his palm rough against her bare skin. The weight of his knee pushed between her legs was like heat that burned. She felt him hard against her hip, as his all consuming kiss left her mouth, trailed her jaw. His teeth ghosted against her collarbone, his tongue leaving a trail cold in the crisp morning air. She had no time to feel chilly, had no time to feel anything but the heat of him, of the passion that was quickly pushing them into places she'd only dared dream about.

The bodice of her dress had a few buttons, and deftly he undid them, his hand snaking inside to find her naked breasts. His fingers brushed heavily over her, his mouth leaving her neck to kiss a path down her chest. Her eyelids fluttered closed, and barely able to think of what she was supposed to be doing, she gripped the material of his tunic, pulled it upwards. With a chuckle, Wyatt lifted his head away from her long enough to allow her to pull the shirt off. It fell uselessly to the side, forgotten. As he paid service to her breasts, his warm mouth exploring every inch, she let her hands slide over his broad shoulders, gripping his flesh hard with her fingernails when he pulled one nipple into his mouth with his teeth and sucked hard. He moaned, releasing her.

"Princess," he whispered, whether pet name or title she couldn't tell, the desire in his voice as he gazed down at her body all too evident without the hardness pressing into her to distract her. He pushed his arm straight, holding himself high above her. Every second that passed, the sky grew lighter, and the more of him she could see, the more of him she wanted.

Never had she felt this kind of pull before, never had she ached so acutely. Cain lowered to himself to her, kissing her hard as he pulled the skirt of her dress to her hips, leaving her naked from the waist down and completely at his mercy.

"Wyatt," she whispered, as his hand wound its way from her hip, down between her legs. His eyes caught hers when she said his name, searching her face for assurance that what he did was all right. His hand cupped her, not daring to dip in for a more intimate touch.

"Say yes," he whispered.

She nodded her head, swallowing hard, humming an affirmation. His hand fell away from the warmth between her legs, leaving her feeling bereft. Again, he caught her by the chin, training her eyes onto him, as if she could possibly see anything, anyone else.

"Say _yes,_" he choked, forcing the words.

Her heart pounded harder in her chest. "Yes," she whispered, unable to tear her eyes away from his sultry gaze. "Oh God, yes."

His head fell into the crook of her neck, his lips finding her skin, pressing hot kisses to her pulse point. Moments later, his hand was on her again, his calloused thumb finding her center, rubbing it gently, as he pushed two fingers into her. Arching against his touch with a strangled cry, her hands flew to his shoulders, grasping at whatever she could trying to hold herself afloat. Her breath hitched in her throat as his thumb moved in lazy circles, his fingers sliding in and out with the same passive way.

She muttered a few incoherent syllables, her body lost to his touch and her brain a thousand miles away, and yet still grounded here in this passion, her entire being so painfully aware of what he was doing to her. Higher and higher he took her until her orgasm crashed over her like a tidal wave, and despite herself, she cried out.

When she opened her eyes, he was smiling down at her, his tricky hand slowly coasting her out of her throes. When his touch left her, she whimpered, not ready to lose him, even though she knew – or at least hoped for – what came next. Reaching down, so as to leave no doubt about what she wanted – and damn, did she _want_ him – she unbuttoned his fly, pulled down the zipper.

With a naughty grin that caused him to raise his eyebrows, she reached inside his pants, found him with her cold fingertips. A hiss escaped his lips. "Careful there," he managed through gritted teeth.

DG tried out her most winning, innocent smile. "Why should you be the only one that gets to play?" she asked, as she wrapped her fingers around him, stroking him a few times – but suddenly, he grabbed her wrist, and yanked her hand away. She looked up at him, her eyebrows knitting together. "But –" she began, but he shook his head, letting go of her wrist to put his hand over her mouth. Her first thought was that she could smell herself on his fingers, and it was incredibly erotic, but whatever her second thought was, it was cut off by the sound of footsteps outside the little thicket they hid in.

"I heard something," said a voice. Male, harsh, human.

DG's heart pounded, her arousal dissipating fast, as if she'd been doused with icy water. She slowly pulled herself to sitting, straightening her dress, her trembling fingers fumbling on the buttons. Cain had already left her side, and was yanking his shirt over his head. She didn't dare make a sound, only eyed him fearfully as he removed his gun from its holster.

Cain took a moment to kneel beside her. Knowing he had her complete attention, he mouthed the words 'Don't move' to her, his forcefulness at this one critical point scaring her more than anything or anyone that could hurt them beyond this protective place they'd created. He sighed, searched the ground for a moment, and tenderly placed a kiss on her temple. Then, he moved away, gone from where she could see; she didn't dare look after him, instead closed her eyes, and counted.

_"Az, I'm scared."_

A single shot rang out, shattering the silence around her. Her eyes flew open.

_Don't move._

She didn't have to. They found her.


	26. Chapter Twenty Six

**Author's Note**: Thank you to all my readers, reviewers, and subscribers._  
_

* * *

**Of Light**

**Chapter Twenty Six**

* * *

_- Alta Torretta, Heart of the Shining City -_**  
**

* * *

Ahamo stared out over the towers and pinnacles of Central City, the never ending lights refracting off the smog. The palace at Central City – Alta Torretta – had been closed since the 'death' of his daughter, boarded up over the annuals by what maintenance staff had stayed around to care for the aging building. Now, it was the safest place, and he watched out over the tireless city, waiting for his wife and daughter to return.

_But not DG._

He'd been up most of the night, drinking. He'd taken to drinking a lot – _like a fish,_ his mother would have said. But now, three days – _almost four_, he reminded himself – later, there had finally been news, and joyous news at that. The search parties, the damned parties that hadn't been able to find a trace nor trail of his family, had suddenly found his wife, daughter, and three of their company wandering towards Central City in the dark.

The message, in Ambrose's pen, said they were heading directly to Central City. The royal guard would stop at nothing until the two women were safe within the walls of the palace. The note spoke implicitly of the safety of her Majesty and the Princess Royal... _beloved Lo... sweet Az._

He was a sentimental fool when drunk, and he was man enough to admit it.

Tossing the remainder of his whiskey into the pot of a dead fern, he left the glass on the window sill. It was near dawn, though only from the viewing tower would he be able to see the sky.

_Where is DG?_

The question burned in his mind. His helplessness in the entire situation frustrated him; locked up by the Tin Men for his own safety, he felt like a caged animal. Though, he chastised himself, his wife and daughters had gone through much worse during the trials of the last few days, if he read correctly between the lines of Ambrose's quick note. The advisor had sent a messenger, on horseback, cross-country, just to get him the news as quickly as possible. Of this, Ahamo was eternally grateful. He'd have been out there looking for his wife himself had her instructions not been to stay completely and totally out of the way of her mission.

_Sometimes even your best laid plans go astray,_ he thought. _The secret of the Emerald went off without a hitch... _Or at least it had, right up until the moment Azkadellia appeared out of nowhere to seize the stone and trap both he and DG with magic. His wife's plan, so carefully laid, only to be almost-thwarted again, and again. But the courage of their daughter, DG, had shone through so beautifully... without realizing it, over the course of her journey, she had gained the most powerful defense against the hostilities of the O.Z; a group of trusted friends who would stand by and support her through anything she faced. Men who had, he'd seen with his own eyes, protected her with their very lives.

Now, he didn't know what was happening to his little girl, and the only thing he knew was that those friends she had found were lost to her now, on the road to Central City.

He prayed for her, to the Jesus of his mother, and to the three gods of this world, that his daughter would be kept safe.

Hours later... past dawn, past breakfast, past the few hours of sleep he'd managed to find on the dusty sofa in his apartment, the buzz of the arrival reverberated through every room, to every floor upwards. A maid hurriedly knocked on his door, and he came out looking worn and exhausted.

"Her Majesty arrives," the maid said with a little curtsy. "She's asked that you meet her down in the music room."

Music room... _music room_? Over fifty stories of palace lay above and below him, and in his sleep deprived stupor, for the life of him, he could not remember.

"Twenty-seventh floor, sir," the maid reminded him with a smile. Nodding at her, touching her shoulder in thanks, he made for the elevator.

The ride down was almost unbearable. In the mirrored walls, he straightened his hair, buttoned his shirt. When the doors slid open, the first person he saw was Azkadellia. She was perched on a bench in the hallway outside the elevator, and she'd been waiting for him. Looking dirty and torn, her long hair a tangled mess, his daughter was breathtaking. She stood at the sight of him, her eyes glowing as she reached out to embrace him. He caught her, lifted and spun her, before setting her down on her feet.

"My girl," he said affectionately. "Are you all right?"

Azkadellia nodded. "As well as to be expected, Daddy, thank you. Mother waits for you in the music room." She motioned her chin through a set of carved, white double doors. Smiling and squeezing her arm before letting her go, he opened the doors with a bounce in his step that he couldn't remember being there for... well, a very, very long time.

His wife was standing at the window, looking out onto the city as he had done himself hours before. At the sound of the door opening, she turned, and her eyes lit up brighter than anything the cityscape could offer. Holding out her arms, she waited for him to come to her. He walked slowly, deliberately, watching as the small smile curving her lips turned into a grin of impatience.

"My dearest," she whispered in his ear when at last he caught her around the waist. He smelled stale, like he'd slept in his clothes, and sweet, like alcohol. When he lowered his head into her hair, hanging loose down her back, he was sent reeling into the forest she'd just left, smelled the dust off the road. His hand left her waist to cradle her head, hold it down against his shoulder, and before he knew what had shifted, she was weeping.

"Shh," he whispered soothingly, confused by just what had overwhelmed her so suddenly. He did not pry, only held her. There would be time to ask about DG in a few moments, his curiosity sated enough by his common sense dictating that if his daughter were dead, injured, or captured, someone would have informed him. Of what only his wife could tell him about his daughter, that could wait until she was ready to tell him.

"I am sorry," she whispered into his collar, her tears wet on his skin. "Oh, my darling. I worried I might not see you again. Nothing went according to plan."

With a chuckle, he shook his head. "Hey," he said softly, "your 'worst case scenario' plan worked just fine, didn't it?"

"Yes," she said, and he noticed that her voice didn't waver, that she was already pulling away from him. From her pocket she pulled a strange-looking handkerchief, and with it she dabbed her eyes. She sighed and gave him a tiny smile, one that put him at ease. "Ambrose informed me of your efforts to waylay the general."

Ahamo smirked. "He was quite adamant that the outcry of the citizens at your disappearance would pressure your captors into releasing you." His Andrus voice was quite pathetic, but it made her smile again nonetheless.

"I am weary," she said after a moment. "Come, join me in a bath, darling." She turned to walk away, but only made it to the doorway before realizing he wasn't following her. "Is something wrong?" she asked him, though she knew exactly what trouble him.

"You're not even going to tell me?" He sounded hurt.

"I will not lie to you, husband."

Ahamo took that as an open invitation. "Where the hell is DG?"

His wife sighed, her crestfallen expression immediately causing him regret at his harsh words. "In all honesty, I have no idea where DG is. Far placed from here, on her way to the Tomb with the Emerald. Safe, gods willing."

"_Alone?"_

Ahamo was surprised when his wife laughed at him. "No, not alone. Captain Cain protects her, as fiercely as you, yourself, would. Better, perhaps, considering your poor aim." Despite himself, he chuckled at that. His wife held out her hands to him, and he went to her. They walked hand in hand to the lift.

"Wait," he said as they paused at the doors, waiting for them to slide open. "Isn't Cain the one –"

His wife nodded solemnly. "Yes. What of it?"

"You don't think this plan might... backfire on you?"

His wife shook her head, turning to him with a bright smile. "DG is a girl with a crush. A man of the captain's age and stature would never allow himself to be compromised in such a way. He is a widower, and loyal to us, and we have no cause to worry."

Hidden behind the smile he gave her and the kiss he placed on her cheek was his utter disbelief of her statement. A widower or not, the man had been locked in a tin suit for eight annuals. That gave him a very massive reason to worry.

* * *

_- The Wilds of the West -_

* * *

The fourth law of thermodynamics – more commonly known as _Murphy's Law_ – states "Whatever can go wrong will go wrong, and at the worst possible time, in the worst possible way."

This didn't cross DG's mind, though the irony wouldn't have been lost on her. Bound hand and foot, gagged, and staring at Cain's unconscious body, her mind was completely absorbed in trying to concentrate on her Light. However, staring into Wyatt Cain's face as he lay there pressed into dirt and dead leaves had a nullifying effect on her magic. She knew he wasn't dead, his breathing proved that, thank God.

A heavy boot kicked her in the thigh. She glared up at the Longcoat who stood over her.

_Longcoats._

Of course, they didn't _look_ like Longcoats, but as all were wanted in every realm of the O.Z., the uniforms had been quickly abandoned. Now, looking like ordinary men, she couldn't understand why the lack of the leather coat was somehow scarier. Now, unbound from the Sorceress, they could unleash their own form of cruelty; a far cry from the elaborate schemes and divine torture devised by the Witch, these men were simpler creatures, gaining pleasure from the more immediate suffering of their prey.

A second knelt down and touched her face. She jerked her head away, fighting down the urge to let loose a slew of curses that would have made even her father blush. Talking around a gag was pointless, and might put her in danger of choking. Anger bubbled up inside of her, but no matter how hard she tried, her magic stayed suppressed, untapped.

The third Longcoat was standing over the dead body of a fourth. He nudged the body again with his toe.

"I think we should just kill the guard," the third one said. "An eye for an eye an' all."

The first, the one who had kicked her, was standing over her, and grunted his approval of Cain's untimely execution. DG squeezed her eyes shut, her entire body tensing as she tried to focus on her power... but nothing. _Calm down_, she told herself. _You can't concentrate when you're worried about Cain, and.. for God's sake, stop _touching_ my face!_

Her eyes opened to the cool eyes of the Longcoat who knelt beside her. The calm expression on his face made her afraid, somewhere deep down inside. "No," he said to his companions in a commanding voice that made DG think he might be the one in charge. "These two are worth much more alive."

_Shit. Wake up, Cain. Please, please, please..._

The corner of his mouth, the corner pressed to the ground, twitched ever so slightly.

_Distract them_, was her only thought.

Glaring hatefully up at the cool-eyed Longcoat, DG let it loose an angry mumble into the gag.

Amused, he pulled out the piece of her dress they'd torn off and stuffed in her mouth. "What was that, _my Lady_?"

Her mouth was dry, her throat rough, and she coughed. "I said," she hacked, "you stupid fu–"

"Ah ah," he said, and pressed his hand against her mouth. "That's no way for a princess to talk."

DG tried to bite him, and was rewarded with a hard slap across her cheek. Groaning, she pushed up on her arms, bending her wrists uncomfortably to get herself near sitting. The Longcoat, his eyes widening to match the leering grin on his face – her insubordination was evidently more than amusing to him.

"You and your friends have no idea what you're doing," she muttered angrily, leaning her head to the side, her cheek still stinging. Cain's arm, thrown over his head, blocked his face from her view when she wasn't laying beside him.

The leader of the small group stood, looking down at her; willfully, she glared back, never feeling more hate for anyone in her entire life than she did now, even her sister under possession had never riled this much malice in her. "Pick her up," he said to the Longcoat whose boot had bruised her.

The first Longcoat – the all brawn, no brains type, she noticed – hefted her easily by putting his hands under her arms. Looking down at the ground, she noticed Cain's fingers curling slowly into a fist. Concentrating hard, she focused her mind on the hands that held her. The Longcoat let out a painful scream, and dropped her to the ground.

"She burned me!" he cried out.

The third Longcoat was walking over when Cain rolled, kicking his legs out to knock the leader off his feet; the Longcoat landed on top of her, and Cain was on his feet before the burned, brawny Longcoat could react. Letting her eyes leave the fight, as Cain slammed his fist into the first Longcoat, the third shouting out and jumping on top of him... she concentrated... _Concentrate, DG, concentrate..._ Tutor's voice was ringing clear in her head... she fought against the ropes around her wrist... they were loosening, somehow, if she just pulled hard enough...

A hand in her hair pulled her upwards, pinned her against a tree. The cool-eyed Longcoat stared hard at her._ "Kill him!"_ he shouted to his men, before turning his attention back to DG. He put a hand on her throat, and squeezed, the pressure enough to hurt, but not to cut off her air; she squirmed, whimpered, closed her eyes.

_Concentrate, _she thought, but almost everything was cut off when his hand left her hair to grip her breast roughly. Even through her tightened throat, her scream ripped through the air.

The brutish Longcoat was on the ground now, bleeding from the head. She wanted to look for Cain but she couldn't take her eyes off the man that held her, as his grab-hand squeezed and molded her flesh. Unwilling tears leaked from her eyes; her first instinct, to bring her knee up, was impossible, as her feet were still bound. Though her feet were on the ground, it was his tight grip on her throat that held her standing.

How she heard the second body fall over the buzz of fear in her brain, she didn't know. Despite herself, despite everything she tried to tell herself to calm down, she was panicking. The Longcoat was pawing at her skirt, pulling it up to her hips. _Save yourself_, rang out clear in her head, out of nowhere. _Come on, your hands were almost free!_

With a hard yank, she pulled her hands free just as his fingertips brushed the inside of her naked thigh. "No!" she choked through the hold on her throat, and she summoning what she could, she gave a shove against his chest, and with a bright flash of light he was thrown backwards. The second his hand was off her throat, she collapsed in a heap at the base of the tree.

Cain, stumbling to his feet, looked at her, surprised. He knelt over the body of the Longcoat he'd been fighting, then to the body of the leader she'd blasted. "That was near ten feet, DG," he said slowly. He walked over to her, hunched over, and untied the ropes at her feet. Sniffling, she gave him a watery smile before a fresh round of tears overtook her.

"Hey, hey," he said, shushing her with soft, soothing whispers. He helped her to her feet, but her legs were still in shock; his arm circled her waist to hold her flush against him. The tears stopped quickly, but regular breathing seemed beyond her. The panic took longer to subside, until she was so thoroughly exhausted she could have fallen down and gone to sleep. Still, Cain held her, until she pulled away.

"You okay?"

She nodded. "I think so. We have to get moving, all that noise might have..." she trailed off, not wanting to think about those who pursued them. She just wanted her nightmare to be over.

"They've got a camp through those trees," he said with a nod at a stand of thick pines. "We can take one of their horses."

Her legs and blistered feet cried out happily at the thought of a horse. Cain, however, had stiffened, and she looked up at him, feeling a bit stronger, a bit more in control.

"Are _you_ okay?" she asked him.

"I need you to go through those trees," he said, nodding towards the camp. "It'll be safe, there were only the four of them."

DG shook her head with a nervous laugh. "I'm not going anywhere by myself."

"DG..." he said, and his steely blue eyes caught hers, looking dark, grim. "I've got to take care of these Longcoats."

She held her breath, closed her eyes. A wave of nausea had swept through her stomach, making it hard to speak, but she stood firm. "I'm not going anywhere by myself," she repeated. When she opened her eyes, he was studying her face, looking unhappy, his mouth set in a thin line.

"Fine. But... gods, DG, close your eyes."

Drawing in a shaky breath, she nodded, and complied.

"And cover your ears."

Again, she complied, flattening her palms over her ears, her dark hair. Swallowing hard, she waited. He frightened her, but she never stopped feeling safe with him, despite knowing the danger he could be, the things he was capable of.

Three shots rang through the air, in slow succession. She squeezed her eyes tighter with each blast of the gun, commanding herself not to cry again. When his hand touched her shoulder gently, she jumped. She let him lead her away, not turning around, not opening her eyes.

* * *

_- The Underground Complex -_

* * *

"They split up."

The Commander watched his lieutenant, who always seemed the bearer of bad tidings. He looked at his underling expectantly, waiting for the good news that was sure to follow, that had damn well _better _follow.

"Um..." his outlander companion muttered. "Sir, we think that one group split off to head for the hiding place of the Emerald."

The Commander nodded thoughtfully.

Shore continued. "The hills crawl with the royal army. There are also reports of groups of Longcoats."

"Well, we do not wish to reveal our presence to either faction," The Commander said after a moment. "You will take a small party to find the group that you _think_ is headed for the Tomb in the mountain. I do not need to tell you your life depends on finding the little witch that runs with my Emerald."

"And the other group, sir?"

"They do not concern us."

Noticing that he hadn't been dismissed, Shore stood uncomfortably in front of the Commander's desk, waiting for his leader to speak. Minutes passed slowly, until the lieutenant forced himself to ask, "Was there something else, sir?"

"Give the order to start moving the slaves. In allowing the royals to escape, we have forfeited our position. We must move back over the mountains as soon as possible."

"Yes, sir."

"You are dismissed, Shore. And try not to disappoint me this time."

Shore swallowed hard, and left the Commander's office.

The Outlander got up from his desk, paced a lap around his office. This was their last chance to recover the Emerald; if the royals managed to hide the Emerald away in the magically guarded resting place of their family, it would be lost to him forever, for there would never be a need for the royals to extract it again. It would rest there for an eternity.

Impatiently, he drummed his fingers on the surface of his desk. Small parts of him wondered how well he might weather this defeat.


	27. Chapter Twenty Seven

**Author's Note**: Thank you to all my readers, reviewers, and subscribers.

**Warning**: This chapter contains material that is rated **M**, **NSFW**, or my personal favourite, **NNA**._  
_

* * *

**Of Light**

**Chapter Twenty Seven**

* * *

_- Alta Torretta, Heart of the Shining City -**  
**_

* * *

Azkadellia awoke late in the morning, with an echo ringing in her head, a snippet from a dream fading too quickly for her to grasp.

_Az, I'm scared._

She dressed with shaking fingers, barely able to manage the buttons. There was no maid, no attendant to help her with her corset. Sighing, she tossed on a robe over the undergarment, leaving it wide open in the back. Tying the robe closed, she went out into the hallway.

_Ah, perfect._ "You," she said.

Jeb Cain looked up from his seat in the hall, where he'd been sitting outside her door, waiting for her to wake up. Being a personal guard to a princess inside a palace was a lot of sitting around and waiting. He'd been nodding off when the door flew open. Now she poked her head out, and crooked a finger at him in a basic 'come here' gesture. He raised his eyebrows as he slowly stood.

"Is there something I can help you with, Your Highness?"

Very formal. Azkadellia sighed, already frustrated. "As a matter of fact, there is. Please."

Getting up because she'd asked so nicely, Jeb followed her into her chambers. Her room was small in comparison to the others on the residential floor, though her bedroom and its adjoining bath could easily fit his apartment and the ones on either side as well. Instead of sleeping, he'd wandered the hallways of Alta Torretta, trying to grow accustomed to the opulence and the excess. It made him feel like he was suffocating a little bit, and he acutely missed, for the first time, his childhood home, forever soiled by Longcoats and his father's iron suit.

The minute the door had closed, and he turned to the princess, she started to lower her robe over her shoulders.

"Woah, wait a minute –"

Over her shoulder, she looked at him with an unimpressed smirk. Lowering the robe further, she revealed her corset wide open. Holding the robe up on the crooks of her elbows, she asked him "Will you please help me do this? It'd take me a half hour longer to find a maid to help me."

Jeb nodded his slow understanding, embarrassed by his first reaction. She was a _princess_, and not only that, she was about eight annuals his senior. The tips of his ears turning red, he stepped forward, examining the metal eyelets of the corset... and, by association, the smooth white skin it was about to cover.

The curves of her shoulder blades, the dip of her spine... shaking his head, he took both sides of the corset in hand.

The corset was already laced, only needing to be tightened. Pulling at it like he would a pair of boots, she gave a grunt of pain.

Immediately, he stopped. "Did I hurt you?"

Adjusting her shoulders slightly, she shook her head. "Not in any way that isn't necessary."

A little more gentle, he finished his tugging and pulling, until she was laced nice and tight. Tying a clumsy bow, he stepped back. "Ta-da," he said quietly.

Glancing back at him, she gave him a smile. "That wasn't so hard, was it?"

Her words gave him the slightest shiver, running through the hairs on the back of his neck like a breeze. Clearing his throat, suddenly uncomfortable, he reached out and slid a finger over the top of the corset, his touch on her skin barely there. He noticed goosebumps raise on her shoulders, and he pulled back.

"Is there anything else?"

Azkadellia shrugged the robe up, leaving it off her shoulders, holding it closed with one hand near her sternum. _Damn it, get out of here now. This is bad, very bad,_ he told himself, but his feet stayed planted as she smiled at him appreciatively. She gave her head the slightest shake.

"No, thank you. I can finish by myself."

He bowed his head and left the room, closing the door quietly behind him. He resumed his perch across from her door, not knowing if she would be coming out again, as she hadn't indicated as much. His knee bounced of its own volition, jerking nervously.

When she came out of her room, she was wearing a smooth, fluid looking emerald green gown. Giving him another smile, she walked with single minded determination to the elevator, and he found himself walking fast to catch up.

"I need to see Raw," she told him while they waited for the lift. "I woke up with a funny feeling."

Jeb looked at her, brow furrowed in confusion. "A funny feeling?"

Solemnly, she nodded. "I think DG might be in trouble."

Jeb found his heart suddenly hammering fast. _DG in trouble means my father in trouble._

Azkadellia looked at him, very aware of his thoughts. "I am sure it's nothing, though I do want to be sure. Raw will know if they are in any danger, although I don't know how much more he'll be able to See."

Jeb gave her no response, only stared impassively at the elevator doors. When they opened, and the two stepped inside, the close quarters made him uneasy. He didn't even notice Azkadellia watching him intently.

"You don't like Alta Torretta," she said as they descended.

Flashing the best grin he could muster, he shrugged his shoulders. "I don't much like Central City. Not enough space."

Azkadellia nodded, as though she understood, but she didn't; the city had never bothered her, the gigantic rooms of the palace gave all the breathing room anyone could ever want. "Would you rather be guarding at the Tower?" she asked, her voice low.

Jeb shook his head, his roguish smile dazzling her. "No."

Silence between them. Then... "Can I ask you a question?"

Azkadellia looked at him. "I suppose, if it's appropriate."

Jeb turned, to face her better. "What did you say to Andrus?"

Azkadellia looked away, trying to suppress a smile. "I'm sure I don't know what you mean."

Jeb laughed, forgetting the small elevator, the lack of space between he and the princess he guarded. "He's got it out for me, and had the perfect punishment picked out, and then all of a sudden I'm in a transport vehicle with you on the way to be your bodyguard. What did you say to him to get him to release me?"

The smile pulling at the corners of her mouth proved too powerful to ignore. The brilliant smile, flash of teeth, she gave him nearly knocked him backwards; she was beautiful, just another woman, not a princess, nor sorceress, just Az, and for a second it almost seemed... _possible_.

"Well, first I asked after his family. His daughters, and his dog."

Jeb smirked. Andrus' dog was rumored to be a cross between a Doberman and a Papay runner.

Azkadellia continued, her amusement at her memory invading the very words she spoke. "I also told him that I'm a princess and always get what I want, and as such I wanted you as my personal bodyguard. I informed the good general that if you weren't relieved of duty at the Tower and with us when we traveled to Central City, I might... quite accidentally, of course, magically switch the minds of him and his little dog."

Jeb was quite appalled. "You _said_ that?"

"Most people have a very poor understanding of magic. It's not possible... at least, not by anything that Tutor ever taught DG and I."

Jeb, however, returned to feeling uneasy. Azkadellia had spent fifteen annuals possessed by an evil, Dark witch. How she could escape that without taking away a few lessons was beyond him... but like she had just said, most people have a very poor understanding of magic, and he was willing to admit his inadequate tutelage.

The two found Raw sitting quietly in the study Glitch had claimed as his own on the thirty-second level.

"Might I have a moment alone?" Azkadellia inquired. The Viewer nodded, and followed her into the hallway. The staff was minimal, and they met no one in the hall. As soon as she was sure they were quite alone, Azkadellia's mask of indifference turned into one of abject worry.

"I felt something. _Heard_ something. I think my sister cried out to me... I think she may be in danger. Please, can you sense her, Raw?"

Nodding slowly at the princess, Raw closed his eyes, breathing deeply. His brow furrowed as his body went tense. Azkadellia watched him carefully, and waited... and waited. Sweat formed at the Viewer's temples. Moments later, his body relaxed, and he opened his eyes.

"DG under great stress, but not in danger. Brave Tin Man watches over her. Azkadellia should not fret so." Raw touched her softly on the arm, offered her a warm, comforting smile.

Azkadellia released a shaky breath, one she hadn't realized she was holding. She nodded, smiled at her sister's friend. "Thank you so much. You've put my mind at ease. I think I shall go see about having some breakfast. Excuse me, please."

Watching her walk away, Raw shook his head. Never again would he try to sense DG or the Tin Man... he would not intrude on such private moments... nor would he divulge their secrets to others. He could sense they were close to their goal, and of that, he took great satisfaction, and he carried it with him back to the study.

* * *

_- The Wilds of the West -_

* * *

The Longcoat camp looked quite lived-in. An area had been cleared, a fire-pit made, a large square of canvas strung between three trees as a makeshift tent. A single horse was tethered to a tree quite a ways away, a beautiful brown mare that reminded DG of her poor Molasses.

A light drizzle had started, the drops cold and sharp against her skin; she sat, unmoving, slowly soaking, and waiting for Cain.

They'd had a fight. She wouldn't have thought Cain to be one to lower himself to petty arguments, the way she did; she was always ready for a fight. Perhaps that was why she'd risen to him so quickly.

He'd led her through the trees to the camp, an arm around her shoulders, holding her firmly. Guiding her, somewhat forcefully, down onto a boulder pulled up to the non-existent fire, he'd looked down at her with an unimpassioned grimace on his face. "Stay here," he'd ordered her... commanded her.

Of course, that had gone over well. "Why do I have to stay here? I said I don't want to be alone."

"Just listen for once. I'll be back soon."

Well, it hadn't quite been a fight, but he'd been angry... maybe not at her, but it had sure felt that way. She had herself convinced of this fact by the time he returned, and was so furious with him in return that when he came to her, contrite and less tense, she was practically in a rage; she felt cold and indifferent to him, and what had happened in the thicket might now not have happened at all.

"We should get out of here. You ready to ride?" He nodded towards the mare.

DG got up, ignoring him, and stalked over to the suspended canvas. She was wearing his service jacket to cover her torn dress, but she was still shivering. She gave her hands a hard shake; her nerves were getting away on her.

Cain stayed by the fire pit, watching her from across the campsite. "You okay?" he called to her.

"No, I'm not," she whispered to herself, so quietly she knew he couldn't possibly hear. The drizzle was fast turning into shower, and the sound of the drops hitting the canvas drowned out everything else.

He saw her lips move, but did not catch her words. It was coming down steadier, and travel wasn't going to be pleasant, but there was no time to wait it out. Impatient, he walked over to her, and reached out his hand. He jerked his head in the direction of their stolen mount. "Let's go."

DG stared down at his hand. What that hand had done to her an hour before... _Stop it. Don't think about it._ Even so, her knees shook.

"DG." It wasn't her name, but another order. His tension was rising again, she could feel it radiating off of him.

She turned away from him, ignoring his outstretched hand. "Your manners could use some work."

He sighed, so obviously frustrated with her, it stung. "There's no time for this."

"No, there's not," she agreed ruefully, and she felt his fingertips close around her arm, and spin her around. She looked at his muscled arm, wet and shining from rain. She dared a peek at his face and when their eyes met, in one quick move, he jerked her towards him, closing the gap and crushing his lips down on hers, his kiss hard and demanding. His arms wrapped around her, lifting her off her feet, and walking with her a few paces.

Cain backed DG up against a stout tree, the rope holding the canvas up tied a foot above her head. Dropping her to her feet, he attacked her mouth again. It took her a few moments to find herself in his kiss, to respond to him instead of struggling against him. He didn't seem to notice, his sudden heat enveloping them both. Her anger at him dissipated into something more primal, something not felt before, though her cloudy mind was having a hard time remembering much at all.

His hands ran into her hair, cradling her head, tipping it from side to side for each favorable angle as he kissed her again and again. His tongue reached out to taste hers, mingling somewhere in the space between. A fire extinguished so quickly before flared up in her again, low in her belly. DG moaned into his mouth, the sound lost to the rain.

In contrast to his urgent kisses, his touch was soft, gentle. His clever hands played against her skin, sneaking inside his jacket to find her shoulders, caress her with the barest trace of flesh against flesh. Pressed against the tree, at his mercy, she willingly gave in and sank into him, his kisses, his touch.

_This deserves more than a quick moment up against a tree, _his calm, rational voice echoed in her head. His lips moved under her ear, finding her pulse as her head fell to the side to allow him better access to the tender spot. She was dizzy with the scent of him; he was solid and warm and felt so good that she had to fight to find her voice.

"You said this couldn't happen out here."

Cain's hands skimmed down her back inside the jacket, his hips pressed against her, pinning her to the tree. "Forget what I said," he muttered huskily into her skin. Her head swam with his underlying tone, at his hands gripping her tight, pulling her closer. She forgot that she was cold, wet; the only thing she could concentrate on was the feel of him against her, the delicious weight of him as he held her.

A gasp escaped her mouth when he dropped to his knees before her, resting his forehead against her stomach. His hands ran down her legs, slipped under her skirt to run up them again, his hands tracing her calves, the backs of her knees, her thighs, coming to rest on the swells of her buttocks. Her breath caught in her throat as he looked up at her. His blue eyes had darkened, desire evident on every inch of his face.

"Still think my manners need some work?"

Mutely, she shook her head. Cain chuckled. "Good," he murmured, as he slowly raised her skirt. "'Cause I'm not a 'please' kind of person."

She opened her mouth for some smart ass remark, but nothing came out except a guttural cry as he pressed a warm kiss to her goose-fleshed thigh. Gently pulling her legs apart and turning his head, he kissed the other thigh, further up, closer to... her head fell back against the tree, her eyes searching the canvas above her... something subconscious tried to pull her legs back together. Her nakedness so close to his face, his eyes, embarrassed her. God... gods... she wanted him, the ache radiating from deep inside so hot she knew was sure he could feel it... he _had_ to, otherwise why would he...

Slowly, he stood, and she found herself staring into eyes that were and were not the ones she knew, and instead of falling into them as she had before, she was rising up with him. His hands still on her ass, her skirt hooked up on his wrists, he placed the softest of kisses on her lips.

"Do you trust me?" he whispered, his words barely registering in the haze of her mind. She nodded, unable to unlock herself from his intense gaze. Trying to shake herself free, trying, at the very least, to show him she wanted him, she reached between them, and began the task of unbuckling his belt. This he allowed her, holding his forehead against hers, eyes shut.

_This is really happening,_ she thought, swallowing hard, as he lifted her up, guiding her thighs to hug his waist. His strength surprised her as he pinned her against the tree, his hands underneath her as he guided himself to her entrance. His breathing was ragged as he pulled his head away from hers to stare into her eyes once again.

"Yes?"

Her breathy whisper came. "Yes."

In one, rough stroke, he sank deep into her. She gripped his shoulders with one hand, the other grasping for purchase above her head; finding only the rope holding up the canvas, she held onto it for dear life. His thrusts were long, slow, slick arousal driving her higher and higher. With every push, her breathing hitched; she bit hard into her lip to keep from crying out her ecstasy.

The sound of the rain on the canvas drowned out the sounds they made; as the minutes passed, his hands gripped her more firmly, as he pinned her hips against the tree, moving harder, faster; building deep, and spreading like fire, her orgasm washed through her, her muscles tightening around him. "Wyatt," she breathed softly as she came down, letting go of the rope to cradle his face between her hands. His blue eyes closed as she kissed him hungrily, her tongue slipping along his bottom lip. With a groan into her mouth, he stiffened, came.

He did not pull back right away, instead resting his head on her shoulder, relaxing within her. She held onto him, breathing deeply into his hair, trying to regain herself. When he withdrew, she whimpered as the loss, at the suddenly uncomfortable slickness between her legs. He turned away from her to buckle himself back up, and she was afraid, for a moment, that she might have lost him; however, when he turned to face her, there was a small smile on his lips.

"You okay?" he asked her.

Staring up at him, she nodded. He leaned down, placing a soft kiss on her cheek, near the corner of her mouth. "You take a minute and get cleaned up. I'm gonna saddle up that horse."

When he walked away, her hands were shaking. _What_ had just happened? She didn't know, exactly, but whatever it had been, it had broken the tension between them. She watched him saddle the mare, whispering to her; he seemed to move easier, a weight off his shoulders.

DG had nothing to clean herself up with, so with a roll of her eyes and a silent apology to her mother, she ripped another strip off the bottom of her dress. Ignoring the fact that Cain wouldn't like it, she stepped out of his sight; when she walked back to him on shaky legs, she felt better.

"Ready?" Cain asked her. Again, silently, she nodded. Words just seemed to have clean left her, but he didn't seem to mind. He offered her a smile, one that warmed her from the inside; his hands guided her as she mounted the horse, and then he pulled himself up behind her. Wrapping an arm around her waist, he took the reins in one hand before her, and quietly, pressed together in the rain, they resumed their journey.

* * *

_- The Wilds of the West -_

* * *

"Four bodies."

The human soldier looked up at Lt. Shore, who towered over him. Outlanders made him nervous, but the pay was good. Remarkable, actually.

"Whose?"

"I don't know, sir. Could be drifters. They had no uniforms, but they are not the ones we are looking for."

Shore looked at the sky, as if deep in thought. He sighed. "Any sign of magic?"

"Two with scorched flesh, sir."

"Anything else?"

The soldier swallowed hard, shifting. "A campsite..."

"And?"

"Tracks. A horse, headed for the road."

Shore walked away through the trees, where the soldier pointed. Breaking through a thick stand of pines, he found a makeshift camp. The fire had long since gone out; the morning's rain had stopped, but the air was still cold, unforgiving. Walking the perimeter of the camp, he found where the horse the soldier had mentioned had been tethered.

Shore knelt down. Tracks led away, to the south.

He called out a harsh order to his soldiers. The four human men came tearing through the trees.

"We move now."

One of the soldiers bravely spoke up. "We won't overtake them if they are on horseback."

Shore gave no response. No, they would not catch them, that was certain. He would track them still. Find the hiding place of the Emerald. The girl's magic was uncontrolled, the evidence of that in the burns it left; they would be prepared and they would subdue her. If he couldn't return with the Emerald, he would return with the girl.

A trophy for his commander.


	28. Chapter Twenty Eight

**Author's Note**: Thank you to all my readers, reviewers, and subscribers.

* * *

**Of Light  
**

**Chapter Twenty Eight**

* * *

_- The Wilds of the West -_**  
**

* * *

By mid-morning the rain let up, and by noon it stopped all together. DG was miserable. Despite being cradled against Cain's warm chest, she was cold, and wet. The rest her sore feet had paled in comparison to the new ache in her legs and seat from the day of constant riding. She'd had to put her foot down to get a break from riding; Cain was hesitant to stop, knowing the chance of being followed was still high.

The road they traveled on was uneven, barely more than a dirt trail cut through the trees. It was near evening, the sky darkening behind the clouds, when she caught sight of smoke; she turned her head curiously. Down in a small valley, a mountain cabin was nestled in a thick bed of pines. Nudging him with her elbow, she turned her head towards his ear. Cain pulled on the reins, slowing the horse to a walk, then to a stop. The beast pranced on the spot, backward then forward.

"Cabin," she said, pointing through the trees. "Can we stop?"

Cain sighed. "We should keep movin', DG."

Instantly flaring, she glared at him. "Cain, I'm tired. I'm _hungry_. Can we at least _try_?"

Gods, she got angrier faster than any woman he'd ever met. He jumped down off the horse, glancing up at her. "Stay up there," he told her, when she made a move to follow. Her brows met in an unhappy line, and she frowned, but listened to him. He handed her the reins, and made his way through the trees.

Hunkering down beside a silver birch, he studied the small homestead. A dilapidated cabin, a few outlaying buildings serving purpose to life in the mountains. From his view high above, the body moving about the property looked small, and with a smirk, he noticed an even smaller figure trailing behind.

The horse snorted. "What do you see?" DG called to him.

Cain stood slowly, walked back over to her. It might be worth the risk to hear news of what was going on in the mountains, the locals might have more knowledge of what passed beneath their feet; to get out of the cold, a wash and a meal, some real rest would do them both good.

DG was watching him, expectantly. "Please, can we stop?" she asked him, not knowing his decision. She was trying out her most winning, most convincing smile out on him; her efforts were not lost on him, but stress and worry kept him from reacting in any way other than to meet her eyes, and nod. She grinned, mostly to herself, thinking she'd won, and he let her, pleased he could make her so happy with such a little thing.

Cain easily found a trail cutting down to the little cabin from the road, but the hill was steep. "Don't dismount," he instructed her. "And follow my lead. Don't tell them _anything_." DG only nodded at him, her eyes wide at his nervousness. She peered down at the thin trail, the abrupt decline before her. Cain had alighted the horse, held the reins and walked the mare carefully down.

By the time they had picked their way down, they were noticed; Cain found himself staring down the barrel of a shotgun.

"You must leave, now," said the man, pointing the firearm directly at Cain's chest.

Cain held his hands up, showing the man he meant no harm. "We only seek shelter, rest for ourselves and our horse."

The man – older than Cain, gray of hair, but still strong – eyed the pair suspiciously, did not lower his shotgun. Not moving his hands, Cain glanced back at DG; she was watching the gun, and the man who held it, fearfully. When something else caught her gaze, Cain looked back, and saw a woman coming out of the house.

"Kris, put that thing away, you're scaring the poor thing," she said, nodding at DG.

Her husband kept his aim trained at Cain. "You're trespassin'."

"Kris," the wife said again. "Lower it. Now!" She walked down the steps, put a hand on her husband's arm. "They asked for shelter, and we're gonna give it to them. Ain't much else we can do, way out here. 'Sides, would be nice to have some company, don't you think?"

To Cain, Kris didn't look like he would let his wife sway him; he was surprised when the barrel lowered. "Thank you," he said, meaning it, and turned to help DG off the horse, but she was already hopping down on her own. She gave the mare an affectionate pat, and sidled up to him, careful not to say anything; she held onto the back of his shirt with two fingers.

"Poor dear," the wife said. She pushed past Cain to take DG by the hands. "You two look like you've been through the ringer."

Cain looked at the woman, mildly surprised, though he did not let it show in his face. A careful, calculating look stayed there as he surveyed what he could see of the property.

"I am Kris Ellston," their host said, nodding curtly at them. "This is Serita."

Serita was beaming at the thought of guests. Younger than her husband, Cain recognized the look on her face as one he'd seen on Adora's after the move out of Central City to the little house by the creek. This woman was lonely, hopeful, and cared little or knew nothing of the dangers that lurked on her very doorstep.

Kris turned once again to Cain. "Let the women go into the house, I will show you to the stable. You can feed and water your horse."

Cain cast a look towards DG; the thought of letting her out of his sight, for even a moment, did not rest well inside his mind. Serita's openness, however, seemed to have quelled DG's initial worry, and she was more than willing to take a chance.

"I'll be okay," she told him softly, placing a hand on his arm. "I'll meet you inside."

Cain let her go reluctantly, but he couldn't keep her beside him without raising undue suspicion. He watched as Serita led DG up the steps of the porch, and opened the front door. "Come along," she said cheerfully. "Your husband will do well enough without you, and you look like you could use a change of clothes."

At the word _husband_, DG turned around to catch his eyes following her. She offered him a sly wink, a mischievous grin, and disappeared into the house. Breathing easier, he followed after Kris, who led him towards the stables.

_Husband._ In such far reaches of the Zone, these people had no idea that DG was a princess of the kingdom. It put him at ease as he thought about how the veil of anonymity would aid them. He didn't much like the thought of lying to people, but to let them innocently assume... well, it wasn't going to hurt anything and it made things a lot easier. He'd have to watch his step, though, and be careful of how he treated her... to raise suspicion wasn't something he wanted to do. Already he was wishing they'd kept on riding; Kris was not as welcoming as his wife.

Kris hauled open the huge barn, which doubled as a stable. The other residents of the barn, a black stallion and an ornery looking spotted cow, stamped their feet by way of acknowledging the presence of the men and the new boarder. Led up a short drive bay, Kris stopped him in front of one of the eight empty stalls.

"You can put 'er in here," he said. Cain nodded gratefully.

Kris helped him silently, pitching fresh hay into the stall, and taking away the saddle, bridle and other riding equipment to a small tack room near the rear of the barn. When he returned, Cain was brushing the mare with a hard-bristled brush, with long, careful strokes.

"Whats 'er name?" Kris asked.

"Um, Juniper." Why the name came to his mind, he had no idea. Cain continued his work on the horse – Juniper, apparently – without so much as looking at his companion. After a moment, Kris continued to speak.

"Far be it from me to ask why you're out this far. Been seein' some strange things lately. Royal army - beggin' pardon, Army of Resistance now - stalked through here not too long ago, wouldn't say what they was lookin' for, though they searched this place top to bottom. People have been disappearin', too," Kris said. That caught Cain's attention. He looked up at Kris, who had now found something to hold his own attention.

"Disappearing?" The word formed on his lips felt strange. "What do you mean?"

"Husbands out workin', children at play... Word leakin' around says someone's been abductin' people. Wife wants me to move our family back into Central City, but I'd rather risk it out here than in there, if you know what I mean."

Yes, Cain did. Somewhere in the house with DG and Serita, he assumed, was the child he'd seen chasing Kris around the property. He, himself, hadn't wanted to raise his own son within the city limits, nor anywhere near it.

Cain finished brushing his horse, and tossed the brush back to his host. "Thank you kindly," he muttered, eager to get back into the house, to where he could keep a close eye on DG. Kris seemed to be following the same train of thought, because with a nod of his head, he gestured for Cain to accompany him into the house.

The interior of the cabin was small, a singular room with two branching off, separated from the main room with hanging curtains. On the back wall, a ladder climbed to a hole in the ceiling, a small loft up there, he guessed, judging by the exterior of the house.

A small boy came running when the door opened; Kris caught him easily, and tossed him into the air.

"Papa!"

"Ah, my little man," Kris said with a smile to his son. "Are you staying out of your mother's way?"

The boy nodded, staring with wide eyes at Cain, the stranger. "Yes, sir." The boy couldn't be more than four annuals. Cain remembered Jeb at that age, so full of bothersome questions, wanting to help, wanting to do everything himself. The memory was sharp, but when DG walked over and took his hand, it slipped to the back of his mind.

Looking down at her, he saw that she'd changed into a dress given her by Serita; though it was simple, he couldn't help but notice the way it outlined her breasts, her hips, ending just below the knee to show off smooth calves and ankles. "We made it just in time for supper," she said, reaching up on her toes to whisper in his ear. "If we hurry, Serita says there is a water pump out back where we can wash before it gets dark."

Cain followed her out of the house, around towards the back of the property. Even in the twilight, it was hard to miss the gleam of longing in her eyes. The water pump sat beside a small shed used to store firewood, which, incidentally, shielded them from view of the house.

As he pumped water into the bucket that had been resting in the grass, DG fell against the side of the shed, and closed her eyes.

"How long will we stay?" she asked him.

Cain sighed. "A few hours at most. Night is our best time to travel, and we can be there before morning."

DG's eyes lit up. "Really? Are we that close?"

He nodded. Relieving themselves of the burden of the Emerald, however, wouldn't lead them out of the woods. It would still be another long journey back to Central City. DG seemed to realize this, as well, because her excitement disappeared quickly.

"Do you think the army found my mother?" she asked, her voice small.

Cain sighed, watching her. He placed the bucket of water down between them, and, when she didn't make a move towards it, he knelt down, and washed the dirt from the road off of his face and hands. He didn't know what to tell her. When she noticed that he was no longer thinking, but avoiding the subject, she laughed, another tiny sound.

"I'll take that as a 'no'," she whispered, as much to herself as to him.

Setting his jaw, Cain looked at her. "I didn't say that."

He knew the familiar look on her face, the way the sadness would creep into the corners of her eyes, and the frown would tug at her lips; she bowed her head and turned away from him, trying to hide her tears. _Damn it_, he thought. Without hesitation, he stood and crossed the space between them, and gathered her in her arms.

DG tried to push him away, but he held her fast, pulling her flush against him so she couldn't run. "I'm sorry," she said after her moment of struggle, burying her face in his shirt. She gripped the cloth at his shoulders, trying to stay grounded. "I'm just worried, I want to know that they are safe. With the outlanders chasing us, and Longcoats in the woods, people pointing guns at us and you dressed up like G.I. Joe..." she trailed off, deep in thought.

"G.I. Who?"

"It's a toy soldier... made for children on the Other Side," she said, sounding so dejected at having to explain this to him that he was sorry he asked. He could only tighten his hold on her, and after a moment, she said, "You know, I miss Glitch."

Cain pulled back to smile at her, a real smile that might coax her back out to him. "Yeah?"

She nodded, looking up at him. "You're too serious. Glitch makes it more fun. All this... running around in the wilderness," she said, letting go of his shirt to wave her hand to sum up everything they'd gone through. "You need to lighten up, Cain." She glared at him, trying to look serious; he only smiled down at her, pleased that, if nothing else, her mood had suddenly shifted.

He nodded his head to the bucket of water. "Get washed up."

With a sigh, she pulled away from him. As she bent down to wash her hands and face, he continued to talk. "You know you had Glitch worried you were going to take off."

Dipping her hands into the water, she looked at him. "I did?"

"He was worried you were gonna hitch a ride back to the Other Side somehow," Cain said.

DG's brow furrowed. She splashed cold water on her face, once and then twice, going over what he'd said in her head. "How do you know?" she asked. She stood and walked slowly, drying her hands on the clean white apron covering her skirt; she then lifted it to pat her cheeks dry. Cain took a step backwards, leaning against the wall of the shed. When she stopped, she was standing directly before him, pinning him to the wall with her close presence.

Cain gave her a half smile, looking down at her. "It didn't cross your mind that I'd have someone keepin' an eye on you for me while I was in Central City?"

DG closed her eyes, processing this information. "Glitch was spying on me for you?"

He nodded, smirking. DG bit down on her lip, glaring at him. She was both offended, and somewhat flattered, a strange mix of emotions that left her without much to say that would make any sense. Whatever she felt, it slowly melted into acceptance, a warm glow inside. While she should be furious... out alone in strange territory, amidst the danger, it only reminded her of her Tin Man always watching over her, always there to keep her safe.

Closing her eyes, she leaned up on her tiptoes to kiss his lips, a soft caress, barely there. Cupping his face between her cold palms, thumbs stroking his stubbled cheeks, she repeated the kiss again. Cain allowed her freedom to move, did not grab her or embrace her, only returned her kisses when she placed them, the same soft butterfly stroke against her mouth.

"I miss your hat," she said suddenly, randomly. Crinkling her nose, she kissed his lips a last time before pulling away.

He chuckled. "Let's go inside. See about gettin' you some sleep." He didn't tell her that he missed his hat, too; didn't tell her that it had been a gift from Adora, given to him not too long before the Longcoats had come walking up their road.

DG shook her head. "Food first. I'm starving."

The meal they were served was small, but filling. Cain ate what was put before him eagerly, but rose quickly after the dishes were cleared to pace the windows, though there wasn't much to be seen out in the dim twilight. Serita put her small son to bed, and returned with cups of hot tea; she offered him one, but he declined. Cain listened to the conversation at the table, frowning as it turned towards the disappearances Kris had mentioned in the barn.

"Two hunters went missing out of Monk's Hollow," Serita told DG. "Rumors are flying around, at least ten people have gone missing in the western realm in the last two weeks."

From across the room, he caught DG's deep frown. "Missing?"

"Not a trace left," Serita replied, shaking her head sadly. "It's such a shame, too. Most of them are young people leaving behind families. I don't know what I'd do without Kris." She glanced affectionately at her husband. Cain had been studying the two of them most of the night; they were good, honest people, that much showed in their very faces. They worked hard; the mountain life had yet to root into the wife, he had noticed as well; she was too kind, too delicate, there was no weight of hard existence yet on her shoulders. Perhaps she might bear the burden better than most, but eventually, as it did with all gentle things that came into the mountains, the life would wear her down.

The subject turned to Cain and DG, though he didn't notice until he realized their hosts had quieted. Someone had asked a question, and no one had given a response. Looking at DG, he noticed she was staring at the table top; her hands were in her lap, and she was absently rubbing her thumb over the palm of her left hand, distracted and a thousand miles from where she sat.

"What was that?" Cain asked, as Serita looked at him expectantly.

"I asked how long you two had been married," she said offhandedly, already waving off her own question. "I don't think she's feeling very well." She nodded at DG.

DG shook her head. "No, I'm not."

"There is a spare bed up in the attic," Serita told her. "Please, feel free to rest if you aren't feeling well."

DG looked at Cain, waiting for his answer. He nodded; she stood, and with a gracious 'thank you' to her hosts, she climbed the ladder and disappeared into the ceiling. Serita stood, and watched her go.

"Poor thing," she clucked. "Are you sure you want to travel tonight, sir? There would be no trouble if you and the little lady were to spend the night."

Cain shook his head. "Thank you, but we've got to get back on the road as soon as the moons rise."

Serita nodded her understanding. "I can wake you if you'd like to go rest with your wife."

Her words ran through him, graveling against his soul. _Wife_. He would not tell this woman that he'd had a wife, and that he'd lost her not only once, but twice; he would not tell this woman that the ache in his chest he'd carried for eight annuals in a tin suit was slowly subsiding as the princess above his head opened herself to him, trusted him like no other. He only nodded at Serita, thanked her, and followed DG into the loft.

She was laying on the tiny single bed, her back to him. Her shoulders shook; she was crying. She hadn't lit the lamp, and he could only see her outlined form. Walking over, he sat down on the edge of the mattress.

"You okay?" he asked her, the answer to his question painfully obvious; he only asked because he knew she needed him to.

"The outlanders," she hissed into the pillow under her head. "They're taking slaves. Not only did they kidnap my mother, imprison us, threaten to _kill_ us, they've been abducting people! These poor people, just when it was time to stop fearing the Witch and look forward to a new life... _taking people_! I can't..."

She curled in on herself, hands over her face. She shook to control her tears, and though she made no sound, her breathing was heavy with tears. Once again, he was at a loss for words, not knowing what to tell her. What _could_ he tell her? None of this was her fault, but she blamed herself... she didn't have to say as much, he knew her too well, knew that she would take this on her shoulders because she felt responsible. Just one more event in the sequence that started with the little girl who let go.

DG stiffened when Cain laid down on the mattress behind her, his body molding against her back. He curled against her, wrapping an arm over her side; she hugged his hand close to her chest, cried her tears of guilt into his knuckles. He buried his face in her hair, trying to calm her with his presence, breathing deeply so that she might do the same, letting the darkness in this strange, safe place permeate their bodies so that they, too, might disappear.

* * *

_- The Hidden Entrance -_

* * *

A company of three hundred troops moved quickly through the western mountains. At their head rode General Peter Andrus, at his side Corporal Jeremy Hass; any soldier riding behind didn't fail to notice that the shapeshifter whom the general had denounced and ridiculed, who had deserted the army only to be recaptured, had escaped prison with the Queen of the O.Z. and the heiress presumptive, now rode at the general's side.

The lion-man at the palace... the Viewer, Raw, had told the General upon his departure that he would not find what he sought. On her Majesty's orders, he'd left Central City with his forces, and followed the corporal into the wilderness.

It was dark, near midnight, when the corporal reined his horse, and climbed down. Torches were lit to reveal a huge, gaping maw in the side of a rock face. "This is it," he said, looking around. "This is where we escaped from."

The general was skeptical. "It's a cave." His men had swept this area, and had found nothing. Every sector of the western mountains from the southwestern tip of the Lake Country to north of the River Nwyn where they were now had been searched; no trace or trail had been found.

"Follow me, General," Corporal Hass said. He took a torch from one of his fellow soldiers, and walked fearlessly into the cavern. The general followed with reservation, but when, deep into the cave, Hass revealed a hole cut into the rock floor, a ladder leading down, down, down... the general had come close to apologizing to the man... close, but not quite, of course.

Three hours later, in the underground fortress, all his scouts returned empty handed.

"Sir, every floor is clear. There is no one left here."

Andrus shook his head, running a hand down his face. "I want every room searched thoroughly. Tear the place apart if you have to. See if you can't find some evidence, Intel, perhaps, indicating their plan, or where they might have gone."

"Sir, such an extensive search would take hours."

Andrus turned on the man angrily. "You have your orders, man! Get the search done, and get it done now. Take hours, just _do it_!"

The soldier jumped, turned, then began barking orders at his comrades. Andrus stalked the hallways of the complex, taking in the crumbling craftsmanship, the bare interiors; the place unnerved him. They were far beneath the ground, and this place had stood for maybe hundreds of years, long before the Gale dynasty, long before the banishment of the outlanders. _Outlanders_, he thought, furious. _First an evil Sorceress, then mountain men... what next, dragons?_

He shook the thoughts out of his head, as the shapeshifter corporal walked briskly up to him, and saluted.

"What is it, Corporal?"

"Sir, we've found something."

Andrus was in no mood for cryptic games. "What have you found?"

"How they captured the first group." Quickly, he outlined the mechanism quite like the ones the army used for interrogations, a holographic devise that gave illusion but not substance, it could create light and sound to aid in its ruse. "Two swinging metal doors, sir. Set in the ceiling of Loading Dock 1. There must be a holograph projector on the surface to create the image of the road to hide it."

Andrus shook his head; they had been so unprepared, so trusting. The outlanders hadn't set a trap, the Queen's party had walked right over top their front door. Their leader, this _commander_ they spoke of, had gambled that the group wouldn't take the main road... and he'd won out. _But he lost in the end_, Andrus thought with some satisfaction.

"I want this place cleaned out. Anything of value, anything of importance. _All_ documents and papers are to be boxed and transported to Central City to be cataloged," he told the corporal. "The Queen's orders are to destroy this entire complex once we have our men out of here."

"She knew they would have abandoned it?" Hass asked him.

Andrus nodded. "She suspected as much. Would _you_ stick around?"

Hass smiled, and shook his head. "No, sir. I'd have high-tailed it back where I came from."

"Me too, Corporal. Me too."


	29. Chapter Twenty Nine

**Author's Note**: Thank you to all my readers, reviewers, and subscribers._  
_

**Warning**: This chapter contains material that is rated **M**, **NSFW**, or my personal favourite, **NNA**.

* * *

**Of Light**

**Chapter Twenty Nine**

* * *

_- The Ellston Homestead -**  
**_

* * *

_She regained consciousness slowly, the complete absence of pain sinking in. Had it all been a dream? But when her eyes opened, she was staring at an unfamiliar ceiling. A ceiling? It was far above her head, sprawling and white. If she was dreaming, it wasn't over yet. She was inside, somewhere, but there was room to breathe here, room to move, to sit up. When she tried, a voice called out, echoing so loud she winced. _

"_She's awake!"_

_Something was hovering over her face... the first thing she saw, glinting in the bright light... a silver star, surrounded by two words. Focusing on them, she read _CENTRAL CITY..._ Had she really made it? She struggled to sit, and her head connected with something firm, yet soft... pushing at it, she realized it was someone's chest... a male someone._

_Instinctively, she screamed, shoving harder._

"_Hey, calm down," soothed the same voice. The man held his hands away from her, like she'd pointed a gun at him; that silver star glinted on his chest. _It's a badge_, she realized, and for a moment, she relaxed, though she did not stop watching him, suspicion masked by fear._

"_Who are you?" she demanded. _

"_Um, the name is Nick. I'm with the City Guard; I brought you into the palace."_

_She looked around. The walls were stark, bare; everything around her was crisp and sterile, the smell of antiseptic clung in the air. "This is the palace?" she asked. _

"_This is the infirmary, in the palace," he said with a small grin. His brown hair was messy, and it fell into his eyes. "Pastor... um, his _Majesty_, is probably on his way to see you right now. Told me to stay with you until you woke up."_

_She found herself hoping he wouldn't leave, now that she was awake. _

_The doors burst open; she snapped her head around to see an old man barging into the room, an entire retinue following behind. She pulled the blanket of the bed up to her chest protectively. It was then she noticed her hands were bandaged._

"_This is the girl?" the old man asked her; there was nothing soft or kind about him, his bearing and the bark of his voice told her without a doubt this was the king she'd begged to see. He was appraising her with his eyes, starting from her hairline and ending with her hands. Her hands held him transfixed. "I want to see her palm."_

_A nurse materialized out of nowhere. The nurse wrenched her hands away from her chest, and began to undo the bandages wrapped around her left hand. She cried out indignantly at being manhandled, but only the guardsman who had helped her seemed to notice or react. Glancing back at him, she saw his concern, though he would never make a move in front of the king._

_Pastor nodded, looking down at the symbol on her hand. "Yes. Yes, this is her. Show me the stone," he demanded, his intent gaze burning into her. She opened her mouth to speak, to say what had happened to the Emerald, but no words came; she had no answer to give him. Her head fell to the left as she tried to think, to remember. _

_The guardsman... Nick?... stepped up behind her, leaned over to whisper in her ear. "It's under the pillow." Without looking at him, she reached under the pillow to extract the warm, glowing stone. A breath she hadn't realized she was holding was exhaled in a long sigh as her fingers closed around it; she was relieved, without knowing she'd been worried._

_The King's eyes glinted as he looked at the tiny gem. After a moment he shook his head, tearing his eyes away. He turned to the nurse still waiting at the ready._

"_As soon as she's well, I want her to take chambers on the same floor as I," he commanded. The nurse gave a curt nod. Pastor turned his attention back to her. "Girl, you and I will meet again, we have many things to discuss. You are not to leave the palace."_

_She only stared at him, not understanding. _

"_She's going to need a guard. You." The king nodded at the city guardsman, who stood at full attention at being addressed. "This girl will need protection. She is very important to me. I appoint you as her personal guard."_

_Nick, the guard, hesitated. "But... but, Sire –"_

"_No. I want your word, you will not leave her side."_

"_I... yes, your Majesty. You have my word."_

DG was slowly being shaken awake. The hands were firm, familiar. The warm, solid chest she'd fallen asleep against was gone; when she opened her eyes, she saw Cain before her, kneeling on the floor beside the bed. _ Now there is a face I could wake up to in the mornings,_ she thought, but the thought was immediately suppressed with the impossibility of it; it would never, could never happen that way. One of his hands was resting on her arm; he gave her another gentle shake. "Darlin', it's time to wake up."

She moaned groggily, still so tired that the exhaustion seemed to have seeped into her bones. Cain smoothed back the hair falling across her forehead, and placed a warm kiss on the spot he'd cleared. "Don't wanna," she mumbled, but she stretched her arms above her head to shake the sleep from her body, arching her back as she did so. Cain had to look away, his eyes drawn to the smooth lines of her neck, her dress straining against her small breasts as she arced upwards.

He backed away and stood as she swung her legs over the edge of the small bed.

"Is it time to go already?" she asked, rubbing her eyes. She was breathing deeply, trying to shake the warmth of sleep from inside of her body, to prepare herself for the night that awaited her. She was surprised to see light from the moons shining in the single, circular window above her, casting a pale glow like a spotlight on the floor. "How long did you let me sleep?" she asked, looking up at him.

Standing above her, he gave her a half-smile. "Four hours. You needed some rest."

DG shook her head, frowning. "I wish you hadn't. I had another dream."

"Yeah?" He sounded intrigued. He held out his hands for her to pull herself up, but he'd already lost her attention, as she tried to pull pieces of the dream back as the fog of sleep rapidly cleared. With a sigh, Cain sat down beside her on the bed, so that their thighs touched, and their knees bumped together.

"She was... safe... I think? Something felt _safe_. The rest, I can't really remember," she said slowly. "Just that, and the Emerald. That's all..." she said, and turned to look at him apologetically, as if she'd done something wrong. She shrugged her shoulders.

"Well, let's see if we can't get the Emerald back to where it belongs," he said, wanting to break away from the blue eyes that captivated him. When he looked at her, why was it so hard to look away? He forced himself to stand, and this time, when he held his hand out for her, she took it, and pulled herself up.

"There _is_ a connection, I think," she said thoughtfully, offhandedly. She noticed he was watching her expectantly, if not a little skeptically. She rolled her eyes at him. "When I dreamed she was in danger, you and my sister were... well, we all know how that turned out." She stopped talking then, knowing she'd made her point, but... dreaming of her ancestor's escape had helped during their own escape... now maybe dreaming of safety meant the journey was coming to an end. A happy one, hopefully.

Cain cocked an eyebrow when she grinned up at him, as if her thoughts were a thousand miles away from where her sentence had finished. "You ready?"

DG nodded. "Where are the Ellstons?"

Cain's mouth set in a crooked line. "The old man is out in the barn waitin' for us. The missus went to sleep."

She followed him down the ladder, moving quietly so as not to wake Serita and her son. "Did you sleep at all?" she asked Cain as the crossed the main room; when they reached the front door, he took his service jacket off a peg and slipped it over her shoulders. Sliding her arms into the sleeves, she smiled gratefully at him.

Cain cracked the door open and ushered her outside, not answering her question until he'd closed it quietly behind him. "No, but they were gracious enough to make a pot of coffee for me."

DG frowned, sliding her hand down his arm to take his hand. "Will you be all right to ride?"

"I'll be fine," he said shortly. Her concern unnerved him; the last thing she needed to be worrying about was him. "Let's just get on the road," he told her.

Letting go of his hand, she stalked down the steps and across the yard towards the barn, not looking back at him. He followed after her more slowly, so that she'd slipped inside the barn and was gone from his sight for a few moments. When he entered the barn, she was leading the horse up the drive bay towards him. In the lantern light, she looked ghostly and miserable, but determined.

"Let's get on the road," she told him softly when he approached her.

Kris followed them out into the yard, and watched as Cain helped DG mount. "The road leading off the back of the property heads south," he said. "It'll take you to the main road. Turn left to head to Central City, turn right to continue south. You two know what you're lookin' for?"

Cain only nodded, but DG smiled. "Thank you very much," she said, enjoying the feeling of being nestled up against Cain's chest. His arm was snaked protectively around her waist, his big hand resting on her hip, inside the jacket. It crossed her mind that he was going to get cold, but he didn't seem to care, and she knew his chivalry wouldn't allow him to take it back. Cain could be stubborn sometimes, but oh, he sure could make a girl feel... well... _Shut up right this second, DG. Shut up now,_ she told herself.

Cain directed their mount the way Kris had pointed out, and they were off at a steady pace. A chilly night breeze whipped through her messy hair. She tried to turn around and look back, to see the tiny cabin disappear, but Cain held her fast, and the darkness was too consuming, anyway.

"Hold still, DG," he said to her, over the pounding of the horse's hooves on the hard packed road. His lips brushed over her ear, and she trembled; the arm around her tightened.

_Like I'd ever go anywhere, Tin Man,_ she thought to herself, but kept her mouth shut.

The trees lining the road grew close together, their stretch far-reaching, branches meeting high above the road to create a tunnel; the moons peeked through, casting jagged shadows across their faces and the path laid before them. DG felt very much aware, her senses keened.

After two hours, DG didn't have to strain to hear the hum of the connection that pulled the Emerald to the Grey Gale. It carried on the wind now, loud enough for it to be a constant presence in the air, as much as her own breathing. It quickly gave her a headache.

Cain felt a nudge in his ribs, and against his neck, DG started shaking her head. "I need to stop," she called out to him, sounding ill. Immediately, he pulled back gently on the reins, slowing the mare; by the time he'd eased her back to a stop, DG was sliding away from him to the ground, only barely landing on her feet.

"What's the matter?" he asked her; climbing down and on his own feet fast, his hands went to her arms, and he held her away from him, studying her face in the little light afforded them by the moons. She nodded, her eyes wide and pale. She turned away, shrugging him off; a few steps farther, and she held her hand out in front of her, her small wisp appearing there instantly.

"Find a safe place," she muttered to it, as she had done the night before, when she'd found them the thicket in which they'd hidden, and rested, and... even with a pounding headache, Cain still crept into her mind, catching her defenseless. She shook her head, trying to banish him. Now was not the time, even _she_ knew that.

Cain had followed behind her slowly, leading the mare. Her light stopped in front of a large rock outcrop, where an old giant tree had fallen against it, creating a triangle of space underneath. Down into the undergrowth she plopped, dead leaves crackling, the sound too loud to her sensitive ears.

Cain tethered the horse to a tree away from DG's circle of light, giving her an affectionate pat before heading towards the princess.

"DG," he said slowly, as he knelt in front of her. "Talk to me, kiddo."

"Headache," she mumbled, bowing her head into her hands, as she kicked off her shoes. Cain didn't like that he couldn't see her eyes; reaching out, he placed his fingers on her jaw, thumb on her chin, and titled her face back up to meet his gaze. Even in the bleary light, he could see her flush. "It's the Emerald," she said, her voice low. "I can hear it constantly now."

He nodded, understanding settling into his face, a patience there that comforted her. "Yeah, we're gettin' close."

"I just need a few minutes," she assured him, touching her temple with her fingers. She closed her eyes, and when she did, her wisp extinguished, tossing them back into the shadows thrown by the moons.

Cain walked back to the mare, and extracted the canteen; his fingers brushed up against something unfamiliar. From the depths of the saddlebag, he pulled out a rough wool blanket, the same type of standard issue blanket that had been on the cot in the prison cell.

When Cain walked back to her, he passed her the canteen. She unscrewed the cap and took a sip; when she looked up at Cain, he had unfolded the blanket he had carried in his other hand, and was studying it.

"Whatcha lookin' at, cowboy?" she asked him.

"I'm trying to remember if this was in the bag from the Longcoats, or if the Ellstons put it there."

DG shook her head, and took another small drink of water. "I have no idea," she said after, replacing the cap and tightening it. Cain looked down at her; light from the moons sliced through the curving branches of the tree she sat under, illuminating her blue eyes.

The intensity of his stare caused her to look away. Her headache was fading slightly, enough for her to realize her heart was pounding fast under the heat of his gaze. _How can he do this to me, just by looking at me?_ she wondered; unable to meet his eyes, she glanced down, and saw his hands drop the blanket. She watched as he knelt down, and with a quick tug, pull the blanket a little straighter.

When he stood, he reached out a hand for her. Dropping the canteen to the ground, she stood shakily, and took a few steps, until her fingers slid over his. Cain placed both hands on her hips and pulled her towards him; pressed flush against his chest, she could feel the warmth of his body despite his bare arms in the chill of the night. He was looking down at her, his blue eyes seeking hers; when she braved his stare, his mouth descended upon hers, swallowing her surprised gasp. The kiss was tender, but it deepened quickly, as she reached up on tiptoes to lean into him more, to press her mouth harder against his, her tongue reaching out to explore his. His familiar taste spread into her, intoxicating her. His closeness dimmed the dull ache behind her eyes, as she at once both closed herself to the world and opened herself to him.

She pulled back slightly, lowering herself to the flats of her feet, feeling part of the blanket under her heel. "Will it be okay?" she whispered. "You're not worried about someone finding us?"

Pressing her forehead into his shoulder, she didn't look up at him when he spoke, but she could hear a smile on his breathy whisper. "You'll just have to keep quiet when I make you come, Princess." She whimpered, and his hands squeezed her flesh at the sound, before sliding from her hips, up her sides, ghosting over her breasts. He caught the jacket and pushed it off her shoulders; she held her arms straight and let it fall to the ground. His lips brushed her temple. "Besides, we can handle a couple of Longcoats."

That put a smile on her face, breaking her out of the daze his voice had mesmerized her into. "Wyatt," she whispered, trying the name out on her tongue. She could 'Cain' and 'Tin Man' him all she wanted at any other time, but now, as his hands slid over her shoulders, over her neck... he was Wyatt, the man who let go of his stoicism and abrasion to kiss her, to press his body against hers.

He groaned as his name rolled past her lips like a delicious curse, punctuating the moment. Tipping her head up, he caught her lips with his. Without breaking the kiss, his hands left her neck, one reaching behind to undo the sash that cinched her dress at the waist, the other reaching between them to unhook the three buttons of the bodice. His quick, experienced hands slid the dress off her shoulders; she shimmied it down until it heaped at her feet, leaving her standing in a thin cotton slip.

Wyatt grasped her hips again, backing her up a few paces, until she felt the blanket fully beneath her. Breathing hard, flushing despite the chill, her fingers bunched together the bottom of his shirt, and she began to tug it up. Helping her, he lifted the shirt up and over his head, dropping it where it fell; her cold hands reached out immediately to explore the muscles of his chest, her fingers raking through the blonde hair there, her nails scratching at his nipples. He hissed, and caught her hands in his.

"Be nice, darlin'," he said softly, and he caught her blush. Guiding her hands to his shoulders, his mouth crashed down over hers; he leaned over her, lowering her to the blanket without pulling away from the kiss. When they were on their knees, his hands slid down her back to cup her ass in his palms. He pulled her hips forward, pressing her against his erection. Their kiss lost momentum as they stumbled downwards, his hands on the small of her back to guide her down to the blanket.

Cain was kneeling over her, and _God_, what a sight to behold. He slowly lowered himself to stretch out at her side, supporting himself with one arm, as the opposite hand reached out, calloused fingers pulling the straps of her slip down her arms; DG disentangled her arms from the straps, allowing him to tug at the neckline, until the top half of the slip settled at her stomach.

"Great Gale, you're beautiful, Princess," he muttered, searching her face. She looked up at him expectantly, her lips pouting, waiting for his kiss. Instead, he lowered his head to the valley between her breasts, tasting her skin with his tongue. DG gasped, arching her back, pressing herself into his mouth. She was covered in goose-flesh, her nipples pert. His mouth closed over her right breast, trapping the left between them. He flicked his tongue over the tight peak, before drawing it firmly into his mouth, massaging it. She pressed into him again, drawing in a sharp breath.

His hand tugged at her garment, pushing it up until the entirety of it was bunched at her hips, leaving her bare and vulnerable before him. "Hurry," her soft whispers urged him. Knowing their time was limited, promising himself he'd pay better tribute to the wonder that was her body when, someday, he'd have her in a bed, in a private place, where they might finally do this proper. But for now... her fingers fumbled with his fly, and with a chuckle, he nudged them out of the way with his own to help her.

When the belt was unbuckled, his zipper down, DG eagerly shoved his pants down over his hips, and when he was completely unrestrained, she slid her hands around his neck, pulling him towards her; their lips crashed together in a fierce, searing kiss. She opened herself to him without reservation; Wyatt settled himself between her legs, which she wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer. Their kisses melted slowly, one into the next; positioning himself, his single thrust hard and deep, stretching her insides. It was not invasion, but surrender; looking up at him, she knew, her mind completely clear. This was her Tin Man, whom she trusted like no other.

DG arched against him, biting her lip to stop the cry that threatened. He was still, one arm bracing with his hand beside her head, looking down at her. Wyatt's blue eyes were sharp, starved, dark with shadow and desire. Unable to bear the intensity of those eyes, she closed her own, turning her head to nuzzle her nose against his wrist. He began, long slow strokes, glorious friction that made her gasp. When she tried to raise her hips to pull him in deeper, he grasped her firmly by the waist, holding her down.

"Hey," she whispered, her lips curling into a sly grin. She caught his smoky gaze; a familiar, understanding smirk crept over his features, dimming the dominance in his eyes.

Pushing into her deeper, he lowered himself to kiss her forehead, the touch of his lips branding her skin. "Hold onto me," he whispered. DG's hands slid up his forearms, holding firmly to his shoulders. He moved faster, more deliberately, pulling her by the hip towards him with every stroke. From somewhere inside, it escalated quickly, as he drove into her, passion overriding them both... her orgasm hit her hard; as her muscles tightened around him, he slowed, pressing his body against hers, kissing her mouth to capture her moan into himself. Her contractions squeezed him over the edge; growling low in his throat, he spilled his release into her, pressing his forehead into her neck.

Her legs loosened from around his waist, but she still held fast to him. "How's your head?" he asked, breathless.

Weakly, she pushed up on him; Wyatt lifted himself away, once again bracing with one arm. The other pushed her hair away from her face as he studied her. Lost in his eyes, it was another moment before she realized he'd asked her a question. "Fine," she whispered. It was the truth, her headache was gone, but...

She felt suddenly like the bottom had dropped out from underneath of her. As he withdrew and rolled away to assemble himself, she sat up quickly, her mind reeling with the improbability of it... a sensation washed through her body, familiar... as it had before storming the Witch's Tower, when he'd glanced down at her outstretched hand, and had pulled her to him, holding her close... after, she'd brushed it off as fear, loneliness... now, as she pulled her slip up over her shoulders and raised herself to her knees, it hit her again. _Hard, _so hard she was almost in tears by the time she stood on shaky legs.

_Damn it... You love him. You are in love with Cain._

A kind expression was on his face when she turned to look at him. In the shadows, he didn't notice the threatening tears. He'd picked up her dress and brushed it off.

"Thank you," she said softly as she took it. As she pulled it over her head, turning away from him to fumble with her own buttons, she listened to him dress. It took them only a few minutes more to gather their things. She argued him into taking his jacket back, as she wrapped the blanket around her shoulders. Faintly, she thought she could smell them on it, and it comforted her.

The walk back to the road was silent. More fully under the moons, he helped her mount, and then pulled himself up behind her. His arm regained its position around her waist, hugging her protectively close. He transitioned the mare into a run, making up for lost time, and after a few minutes, once again over the pounding of the road beneath them, she heard it, clear and strong... the call of the Grey Gale.


	30. Chapter Thirty

**Author's Note**: Thank you to all my readers, reviewers, and subscribers._  
_

* * *

**Of Light**

**Chapter Thirty**

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_- Alta Torretta, Heart of the Shining City -**  
**_

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After a full day of escorting Her Royal Highness Princess Azkadellia (and it continued into three middle names and _of the Outer Zone_), lowly Jeb Cain found himself wishing he was on guard duty at the Tower prison. The woman who'd ripped her evening gown to shreds right in front of him had disappeared, as had the pensive, delicate thing whose bare skin he'd brushed with his fingertips. Princess Azkadellia was sedate, quiet. A perfect image of a proper princess, a persona turned on like a lamp, blinding to him only because it radiated effort.

This first day as her personal guard had been lonely as hell. True, the people who worked around him, maids and valets and messengers, were all nice and hospitable; yes, there were the friendly faces of Glitch and Raw, but life within palace walls was different than anything he'd ever observed; no one shouted or called out greetings, no one ran. He thought back to Finaqua, and DG's shrieked greeting.

Alta Torretta was too quiet.

Add to these facts that, despite being clean, refreshed, and back in his own clothes, he still looked like a stray Az had dragged home, and yes, he could say it had been a very long, _long_ day.

Back in her suite, he'd sat on the sofa, waiting for her to bathe and change for the night. At nine, one of the palace guards, a young recruit from the Academy brought in for the royal family's impromptu stay at the previously closed residence, would stand guard outside her door until morning. Jeb would be free to go back to his assigned room near the rear of the floor. It was on his mind to sneak back to his small, cramped apartment for a few hours to get some real sleep.

The balcony doors were thrown wide open, and he could hear the noise from the raging city below, so far down as to merge all the sounds of cars and music and nightlife into a low, constant roar.

The click of the adjoining bath door opening drew his attention. Standing, he watched as Az came out, smoothing her hands over the impossibly sheer material of her robe, while underneath was a floor length white slip of a nightdress. All of her things had been sent for from Finaqua; it was a bitter taste, knowing how fast and easily the world could move for a princess when safe upon her high perch.

Az offered him a smile, making eye contact with him for the first time in hours. "It will feel good to relax," she said absently, but made no move to step away from the doorway. She certainly didn't _look_ relaxed; the same tension she'd carried since emerging from her room that morning to seek out Raw was still evident in her shoulders, her face.

Jeb did not reply. His mind was far from the palace.

Az noticed his silence. "Will you be glad to get to bed?" she asked him. It was a ridiculous question, but a direct inquiry, and he was on the job.

He looked at her, and shook his head. "I probably won't be sleeping tonight. Glitch is gonna be keeping me updated on Andrus' reports."

Azkadellia considered this. In truth, thoughts of her sister would keep her tossing and turning for most of the night, she assumed. A full day had passed since their escape to the surface; depending on how fast they moved, DG and Wyatt Cain might reach the Tombs by tomorrow, Saturday. But it was a long way to go on foot, and what they could meet on the way... she didn't want to think about it, but couldn't stop.

"What is the latest report from Ambrose?" Azkadellia asked him.

Jeb sighed. "Andrus broke radio contact when they found the exit we escaped from. None of the communications devices will work from underground. Glitch thinks there might be something in the construction of the complex that scrambles the frequencies," he told her; in truth, the advisor's explanation had been much more detailed and complicated than that, but he didn't have the energy or the confidence he'd explain it properly to try and translate.

Azkadellia shook her head. "They won't find anything."

Jeb smirked; she was more astute than she looked, standing there staring at him in her flimsy nightclothes. There was nothing hopeful or optimistic about Azkadellia... it was no wonder she'd gotten on with his father so well. "No. The Commander would have given an order to abandon the fortress, probably as soon as we escaped."

"I want to know how they move in and out of the country without anyone noticing," Az said, finally stepping away from the bathroom to sink into an arm chair, a part of the seating arrangement in one corner of her bedroom suite. He could have reached out and touched her knee – which, incidentally, he could see through her negligee, the creamy skin and smooth lines. "How long ago did Andrus end communications?" she asked, dragging his attention back to her face and away from her leg. If she noticed he was watching... ah, he hoped she hadn't.

"I think his last one was over an hour ago," he told her.

Az said nothing, and the seconds ticked by. What was on her mind, he didn't know, but watching her, he knew that whatever it was, it was bothering her. Finally, uncomfortable with the silence, the too loud roar of the city floating in from the balcony, he stood.

"It's nearly nine, my relief should be here soon," he said. She looked up at him, not offering anything but a dark flash of her eyes, the flutter of lashes. After another moment, she nodded and looked away toward her bed, massive and set on a raised platform.

"Yes, I think I'll lay down. Thank you," she said softly. "Will you bring me any news if it comes?"

Jeb gave her a smile. "Of course I will. Goodnight, your Highness," he bid her, and walked out of the room without turning around. He waited out in the hall until the young Tin Man recruit approached him, eager and nervous about his responsibility. After a few words, Jeb left him, trusting enough that Az would be fine until morning.

"Jeb!"

He turned to see Glitch running towards him. The man looked exhausted, his skin more pale than usual, hair a mess, jacket open. "There is news from Andrus. The facility was abandoned, not a soul there."

Jeb shook his head. He studied the floor with his hands on his hips, fighting the urge to hit something. He'd been expecting this, he knew that they all had, even Andrus, but to hear it was a horrible let-down. "Is there any other news?" he asked, not risking to ask outright about his father and DG.

Glitch shook his head, knowing what Jeb was hinting at. "None. The only thing is Raw says they are safe. 'At peace', whatever that means. They're out in the woods possibly being chased by murderous outlanders, that doesn't seem too peaceful to me." He gave a nervous chuckle.

"Thanks, Glitch," Jeb said. Glitch gave him a nod, and hurried on to wherever he'd been headed before running into Jeb.

Jeb was halfway back to his room when he turned around, deciding to tell Azkadellia what Glitch had told him before heading out of the palace and into the city. The guard at the door allowed him admission, giving him nothing more than a bored smirk.

Closing the door behind him, Jeb turned towards the bed, expecting to see Az under the covers. In his mind, she'd sit up, watch him apprehensively for a moment, before asking him why he'd returned. But the bed was still made, the heavy, quilted covers smooth.

Az was standing in the doorway of the balcony, her hand on the frame as if she were supporting herself with it. "What's wrong?" she asked immediately. She thought he was bringing her bad news.

Taking a few strides into the room, past the bed and past the sofas, he came to stand past the lamplight, near the darkness in which she was shrouded. "Nothing is wrong," he assured her, his heart wrenching in his chest when he saw her slump against the frame, still gripping it for dear life.

"Thank the gods," she muttered to herself. "You scared me!" she said, looking up at him. She tried to laugh it off, but the forced giggle soon melted into choked crying. "What is it, then?" she asked him, suddenly brusque despite her tears. Why did he have to stand there and watch her in her misery? Why couldn't she get even a moments peace? The strain of the past week, and especially this first day back from the ordeal, was beginning to show, her exterior cracking to expose the tender, torn little girl underneath.

"There is word from Andrus."

Azkadellia nodded slowly. "Let me guess."

Jeb flashed a smile, walking towards her a few tentative steps. "Gone."

"Will Andrus ride to the ridge now? To meet my sister and Captain Cain?"

Jeb shook his head, making sure to phrase his response properly. "I don't know, your Highness. Ambrose was a little sketchy on the details. I'm assuming it was only a short communication, the corporal refuses to be used as a carrier pigeon, so he would have sent someone to the surface to send a radio signal. But like I said... I _assume_."

"Is it what you would do?" she asked him.

Jeb shook his head. "I have no idea what I would do. In the Resistance, we –" he stopped short, looking away guiltily.

"It's all right," she said softly. "Please continue."

It took him a minute to work up the gall to start talking again. "In the Resistance, we knew the enemy we were fighting. There was none of this secrecy and stealth, and our enemy never just up and ran away in the middle of the night."

Azkadellia nodded, and turned away from him, walking on bare feet towards the stone rail of the balcony, her steps careful. She stared at the night, straight out, not glancing down to the street or up to the stars unseen beyond the glow. Just stone straight ahead. Though Jeb Cain could never possibly know this, she was thinking on the night of the Eclipse. Tucked away in the tiny trapped corner of her own self, conscious of the malicious presence that commanded her every step, word, and thought. The disdain the Witch had always shown for those that resisted her, who, on that night, had not mattered. The Witch had won, triumphed over smaller mortals, over the Light... what did the Resistance matter?

This boy – young man – behind her, had led the attack on the Tower, had inadvertently made it possible for DG to rescue her, body and soul, from the clutches of the Witch. A fact that had never, ever crossed her mind until now.

Jeb was startled to see Azkadellia turn back towards him. Her eyes, full of tears a moment before, were dry, sparkling in the dim pink light rising from below. Her lips moved with words he could not hear; he moved forward, out of the balcony doors, out into the night, into the hushed roar of the city. He didn't have to ask her to repeat herself, for she said it a second time, a tiny smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

"Thank you."

He didn't ask 'what for?', only nodded, knowing that whatever it was, explaining it would only ruin the sentiment. So he accepted her words, moved to the edge of the balcony to stand beside her. He looked down; they were on the thirtieth floor, and he found the height fascinating.

"Was there any other news from Andrus?" Az asked him after the minutes had begun to pass, their companionable silence only lasting so long.

Jeb shook his head. "No, none of your sister," he said, knowing instinctively of what she was really asking, just as Glitch had sensed what Jeb had wanted to know without his having to outright ask.

"I keep trying to reach out to her," Az said slowly, looking out at the towering buildings past the park and courtyard that surrounded the palace. It crossed his mind, standing here on the balcony with her that her security, even this high, was weak. Alta Torretta was the highest tower in the city, but they were far from its highest floor, and there were too many windows surrounding her private residence, places for others to watch and wait.

Az's voice, continuing, cut into his thoughts. "I try, but I just get the feeling my words aren't being heard. That she isn't receiving what I try to say."

Jeb didn't know what to tell her, not knowing how the magic even worked, let alone what the proper response would be even if he did. Finally, knowing he was expected to say something, he spoke, risking foolishness. "Maybe she's asleep," he guessed. "My father would stop to rest. He's not _that_ cruel."

Az's cheeks plumped with a smile, a real one with a brilliant showing of teeth. "No, the captain never came across to me as cruel. Stubborn and single-minded, yes. But maybe you're right. Maybe she is sleeping. Or perhaps the distance is too far." She grinned at him. "Maybe I need to start taking magical theory lessons along with DG."

It hit him how beautiful she was when she smiled. They were standing too close, he noticed, to be appropriate, but neither had made any attempt to move. She was barefoot, and for the first time he found himself looking down at her, instead of straight into her eyes. It surprised him, how fast his brain had begun to run in the last few seconds as he watched her staring out into the city; her hair was down, thick and heavy, though the wind played at the soft ends, the same breeze whipping her nightdress around her ankles. Dressed in white, she glowed.

When she turned her head, she noticed him watching her, and blushed. It was sobering, how tiny she actually was. This petite figure had commanded an entire army of Longcoats into doing unspeakable things, had held an entire country in her slender hands – and would again, were the rumors circulating the palace and city – but now, she was as breakable and sensitive as any person he'd ever met, nothing special and nothing different.

That, he knew to be a lie. Even without trying to fight himself, he knew it to be untrue – this woman before him, released from the clutches of the Witch, was definitely something different.

Az glanced away from him. "Why are you looking at me like that?" she asked him, studying her hands on the stone rail.

Jeb's brain was a torrent of thought; he knew, on some instinctual level, that what he was feeling and thinking was wrong, and possibly the most twisted thing he'd ever experienced. He hadn't noticed it spiraling in this direction until he was here, until it hit hard and out of nowhere... but maybe it had been coming to this all along, since the very moment their hands had connected, and he'd run with her, out of fear when their pursuers turned out to be their friends. He didn't know, wasn't sure he _wanted_ to know.

Whatever was happening between them, it was a battle of the brain and body; a mind too wise for his eighteen annuals, eyes that had seen too much to make this guilt-free; a body too young and reckless to do anything but defy common sense – he was, after all, eighteen.

To prolong the inevitable, or maybe to avoid it all together, Jeb leaned back on the railing, so that he was facing Azkadellia. If she noticed his closeness, she did not resist or pull away. She only looked at him, sad and serious. Whether his actions were expected, or a surprise, he didn't know, but when he leaned in to place a chaste kiss on her lips, the sigh that escaped her was hard to read.

What Jeb didn't know was the horrors Az's body had known; the last person to touch her in that way had been Zero, after the Sorceress had demanded he bend her over the desk and fuck her senseless. The kiss Jeb gave her, the kindness of it, was something new, something she'd never experienced. In a way, it was her first kiss. When her memories tried to invade, she pushed them back, and forgot for the first time since DG had pulled her free of the Witch who she'd been for so long.

When he pulled away, it struck her how young he was, and how unbelievably old his eyes seemed to be. His eyes... they were light hazel, shot through with green like a star burst; his were amazing eyes, and she'd never noticed, never looked close enough. As she studied his face, he seemed to blush.

"I'm sorry," he apologized. Azkadellia's scrutiny after his actions was making him nervous; she looked as if she was coming to a decision, and he wondered if she would slap him or blast him over the railing. But instead... instead, she grabbed him by the collar, yanking him to her and locking her lips onto his in a soul-searing kiss.

* * *

_- Alta Torretta, Heart of the Shining City -_

* * *

In their private sitting room, the Queen and Ahamo met with her advisor, to hear the latest news from the general.

When Ambrose had finished speaking, the Queen noticed her old friend, his hands playing nervously with the edge of his jacket. He was disheveled and tired, and she found herself appreciating his efforts on her behalf, and that of her daughters, with renewed vigor.

"Please sit, Ambrose," she said softly, motioning to the chair across from her. With a grateful smile and none of his usual pomp, he sat, sending dust flying everywhere.

"Is there any news of my daughter?" Ahamo asked, as soon as Ambrose had settled.

Ambrose shook his head sadly. "None, my lord. Though, at the moment, we can take that as good news."

"What about your Viewer friend? What does he say?"

Glitch looked away. "Only that he feels they are still safe, on track. In no danger, which is surprising, but he's the one with the heartsight, not me."

Ahamo gave a low, frustrated growl. He got up from his chair, and stalked the dark room. His wife watched him, worried. As Glitch observed the scene, he wondered how two people so different would be able to fit together so perfectly; the love story of the Crown Princess and the Other Sider had been both a fairy tale and a scandal thirty-five annuals earlier... had it really been that long?

Glitch found himself swept away in reminiscence, which happened too often for his liking these days. He had come to court when he was thirteen, his intellegence and potential securing him a place as an assistant to the then current Royal Advisor. The gossip and infamy of the marriage had died down, the Queen had been on the throne for two years, and her first pregnancy had just been announced – a baby girl who would be named Azkadellia.

The people loved their unorthodox ruler, a fiery and passionate and _beautiful_ young woman who had fought for her right to love whom she chose. Acceptance had come slowly, but when finally the marriage had been embraced by the country, the people had latched to their sovereign with fierce loyalty, and the country was at peace. _A piece of heaven_, he'd once described to DG.

"Ambrose?" The consort's voice cut into his thoughts.

"Yes, sir."

"Are you still with us?" the man asked, not unkindly.

Glitch gave a rueful smile. "Sort of. Did I miss a question?"

"My wife asked when you expect to hear from the general again."

Glitch straightened. "I'm not sure, Majesty. It could be a few hours; the soldier sending the communication said that a full search of the facility was underway. The general thinks, perhaps, something might be found to indicate the plans of the Commander, or where they might have moved to."

The Queen shook her head. "They will have left the O.Z."

Ambrose was careful with his next words. "There is no guarantee of that, your Majesty, and it would be prudent if we did not underestimate these outlanders again. Their resources stretch far, and they seem more cunning than we could have previously imagined."

The Queen sighed, and watched her husband from his place near the window. "You will send a message to the general, Ambrose," she told her advisor. "Tell him to make haste to the ridge, where he might await my daughter. But you must only indicate the area, Ambrose, you must not give him the direct location. He must only take a small company of men."

Ambrose nodded, understanding. When the group returned with DG and Cain – and he tried hard not to add 'hopefully', but it wasn't possible, even Glitch's optimism couldn't stretch that far – they would have the memory of the location of the Gale Tombs wiped from their brains. This mission would be touchy to the very last.

When she had dismissed Ambrose, the Queen joined her husband by the window. What he was looking out upon, she didn't know. The bright lights and black smoke of the city created a strange colored haze, a mist that might swallow a person whole.

"DG will be all right, my dearest," she said after a quiet moment, placing her hand on his shoulder.

Ahamo turned to his wife. "I can't help but worry. We just got her back." His eyes were sad, and the resolve he'd come to carry around with him, to protect himself with like a cloak, the Seeker he had become and not her Consort, was what he wrapped himself in now. He held himself in a place where even she, as his wife, could not reach him.

"DG is safe," she said softly, trying to convey to him that she truly believed these words. "Captain Cain will protect her, just as you would protect her. Her magic is very strong, and it will help to guide her, and keep her from harm. Another day, two at most, and she will be home."

"Weren't you saying the exact same things last Sunday, the morning you left Finaqua?"

The Queen shook her head. "Trust your daughter, Ahamo, my darling. Despite the fact that she is impetuous, and stubborn, the captain will not allow harm to come to her. Wyatt Cain will protect her with his life."

Ahamo smirked. "And if he gives his life protecting her, what will save her then?"


	31. Chapter Thirty One

**Author's Note**: Thank you to all my readers, reviewers, and subscribers._  
_

* * *

**Of Light**

**Chapter Thirty One**

* * *

_- The Wilds of the West -**  
**_

* * *

It was near first sunrise, Saturday morning. DG felt detached from her body; her entire focus was on blocking out the sound of the Emerald, the sound of the Gale; so close now... like whispers echoing inside her head, both soothing and distressing, words that she could almost, but not quite, make out. Like a symphony of a hundred hushed voices, it invaded her head. With concentration, she could block it out enough that she could control the volume entering her ears... but the slightest thought of something else, like the distraction of Cain pressed against her, his fingers clutching her side as he held her fast to him... her head would explode with the voices.

The sky was lightening, turning gray on the horizon. Cain had slowed the mare; they were in familiar territory now, they'd been there once before, and without having to direct him, he would be able to lead them the rest of the way. She was glad; so exhausted from the effort of blocking out the buzz in her head, from the night of riding, from the entire ordeal, she thought she might fall asleep the minute she was off the horse, and never again wake up.

The path leading to the ridge broke off the main road, barely there, cutting through the trees. When they slowed, DG gave Cain a jab in the ribs, rather harder than she'd meant. He immediately pulled the mare to a halt.

"What is it?" he asked, sounding worried. Agitated, she rolled her eyes, though he could not see her face.

"Want off," she muttered. She could barely hear the sound of her own voice over the whispering in her brain, but she knew in the still silence of the morning, he'd have heard her just fine. Thankfully, without argument, Cain dismounted; before he could even turn to help her, she'd braced her hand against the horse's sturdy neck, swung her leg over, and dropped. Ever a step ahead of her, Cain's hands guided her, so instead of falling to the ground, he lowered her gently.

_Damn you. Stop being so considerate, _she thought. Even the touch of his hands couldn't penetrate her dark mood.

Her head had begun to pound again. Really, it wasn't fair. She wanted to stop the bitter thoughts from entering her head, but they barged in without knocking. _This was Az's job, not mine. She should be out here, freezing her ass off with a jack hammer in her head, not me. _Somewhere, deep down, she knew she should feel contrite and guilty, but it was a hard sell.

"You okay?" Cain asked her; she was already walking away up the gradual incline, trying not to break her ankle on the rocky path.

DG only made a sound in response, a grumpy 'pfft'. Cain watched her as she marched steadily forwards, every few steps reaching out to the closest tree to steady herself. The path was not straight, it zigzagged through the close growing forest, trees looming like silent giants all around them. The moons had sunk low, and it was dark; though the dawn was breaking, it was far from light enough for them to move quickly on foot. At that moment, she seemed to have had the same thought, because with a tired sigh, DG summoned her wisp, which danced excitedly around her.

"It looks happy," Cain said, nodding towards the little light.

DG had stopped to let him catch up; leading the mare, it was slow going. "We're almost there. I can barely hear my own thoughts anymore. I hope the Emerald shuts up once we're inside the Tomb."

Cain studied the sky. "Suns are comin' up fast. Should be a pretty sight once we get to the top of this ridge."

Inside her chest, DG's heart gave a painful beat. Her own revelation of the night before was still haunting her, making her uncomfortable around Cain, which to her made absolutely no sense, but what did nowadays? A perfect dawn over a clear mountain lake, probably one of the most romantic things that would happen to her in her life, and she would walk right past it and enter a cold, marble mausoleum without giving it a second glance. Yep, that sounded about right for the way her life always turned out.

DG continued onward, trying to put some sort of distance between herself and Wyatt Cain. For the last eight weeks, she'd relied on the fact that he was always behind her, a rock to anchor to. Now, all she wanted even for the briefest moment was to be away from him, to get her head on straight, to figure out what had happened in the last week that had changed absolutely everything. He'd kissed her, held her, been _inside_ of her... with very few words passed between them.

"_This isn't the time for this. Or the place."_

"_Then when?"_

His dark, tiny cell came back to her, swimming into her vision and melting the woods around her until she was almost sure she was back in the cramped quarters, could almost hear the ticking of the pipes that had run along the walls. Their first kiss, one that had buckled her knees.

"_DG."_

"_Stop talking."_

Her hazy thoughts, pushing out the whispers of the Emerald, calling up ghosts from underneath the ground. Kisses that had seared her lips; recalling the touch of his cold hands on her bare flesh, the way he'd pulled her into his lap, pressed her hips into his... a strange ache pulled at her abdomen, knotting and twisting. Shaking her head, she tried to concentrate on the wisp that bounced ahead of her...

"_I've got a pretty good idea of what's been goin' on. I thought you did, too."_

DG sighed, running her hands over her face, as if she could wipe him and his words from her memory. She stumbled on a root that jutted out from the ground, and though she didn't fall, she had stubbed her toe hard enough to bring tears to her eyes. With a frustrated growl that vibrated through her chest, she tore the too-small slippers from her feet, and with immense satisfaction, threw them as hard and as far as she could. Her relief, however, was short-lived.

"_You told me not _six_ hours ago that it wasn't the right time."_

"_As it turns out, I can't help myself. Is there a problem, Princess?"_

With a whimper, DG cradled her head in her hands. The wisp hovered above her, shining its bright light down onto her; Cain stopped just short of the glow. "DG," he said slowly. There was no need to ask her what was wrong, she knew he assumed the voice of the Emerald was echoing in her mind... if only he knew it was his own words, what would he think or say then?

"_As it turns out, I can't help myself."_

How it had slipped past her before, she didn't know. She raked her hands through her hair, catching knots and pulling at them, hoping the pain would drive his voice out of her brain. It wasn't right... something wasn't right. How could it have happened like that? It made no sense... no sense...

"Kiddo."

Something was _wrong_ with this. "Don't talk to me," she said weakly, marching forward again on her bare feet. Her little wisp picked up the trail again, lighting the way. She watched her feet as she walked, careful now not to step on anything protruding from the path.

Cain's hand closed around her arm; when she tried to jerk herself away from his grip, he only held tighter. When she looked into his eyes, ghostly pale in the strange, ethereal light, she found herself losing her resolve against him. _That was fast,_ she thought, wondering how his eyes could undo her so easily.

"Something doesn't feel right," was all she could manage to say.

"Yeah, I could tell by the way you chucked your shoes. What's on your mind? Is it the Emerald?" Cain asked. In his voice was nothing but concern; his eyes searched her face, his lips set in a firm line... had she really kissed those lips? Had those eyes really looked down upon her naked flesh?

She knew, more than ever, that she loved him, was _in love_ with him; fighting it would do nothing but destroy the purity of it, that beautiful pull inside that ached for his arms. It wasn't fair, it honest to God wasn't fair. When she realized he was still waiting for her answer, she only shrugged her shoulders, and tried again to pull away from him. She was too scared to open her mouth, fearful that if she did everything on her mind would spill out and reveal her awful secret.

_Is it really so awful? Did you ever think that maybe, just maybe..._ But even there, she made herself stop. Less than two months ago, she'd stood with the man in front of her before his wife's grave. It wasn't possible, and she refused, for even a second, to delude herself. Yes, he cared for her, of that there was no doubt. And, yes... what had gone on really had happened, there was no questioning that... but... damn it, she didn't know what to think.

DG met his eyes. What she hoped for, and what really was, were two very different things. What could be, however... that was another story, wasn't it? With a sigh, she pushed it all to the back of her mind... and with that effort, the call of the Gale pervaded her entire head, echoing like a scream.

Cain watched as she closed her eyes, groaning, holding a palm to her forehead. He let go of her arm, listening to the loud breathing of the mare, standing patiently behind him. When he tried to catch her eyes, she looked away, and after a moment, she turned, and began the steady climb up towards the ridge.

He followed her slowly, watching every step she took. Her bare feet pressed into the ground cover, her every step careful and calculated. At least she was watching where she was going, as she followed that buoyant light as it skipped on ahead. Whatever was bothering her, she didn't vocally complain, though the weight on her shoulders was evident with every foot fall.

_Something doesn't feel right_, was all she had said. He had to admit, that much was true. Something was definitely amiss, he'd noticed it himself, though whether it was her, or him, or something they couldn't see, he couldn't say. The hairs on the back of his neck were prickling, and he walked with his hand on the holster attached to his belt; the feel of the gun, the position on his hip felt strange, unlike his own gun-belt and revolver...

By the time they reached the top of the ridge, cresting the hill and breaking away from the trees, the suns were coming up over the mountains. The bright orange light bursting over the black silhouettes in the distance, fading to deep purple. It was the first time either of them had seen the double suns for days, but neither stopped to enjoy it.

"DG, mount up," he said, but she made no move to stop.

"No, I want to walk," she said stubbornly, without turning around.

Cain sighed. "DG, get on the damn horse. It's another four or five miles, at least."

She whirled around, glaring at him. The rising suns, shining down on her hair, cast a halo about her head, her hair seeming red and not its natural dark brown. The fire in her eyes didn't help much, either; the tempest in her dared him to say another word, ready for a fight. She'd looked sad and lost not ten minutes before, how could she change moods so fast?

Cain, however, was not one to back down easily from a fight. "You heard me, DG."

DG laughed. "You don't get to boss me, _Captain_." It was the first time she'd ever used that title, and the snap in her voice grated him. Wyatt Cain considered himself a patient man, but her stubborn mood swings were putting him on edge. He knew she was tired, frightened, cold, wet, and now without shoes. Another fifteen minutes and they could be at the Tomb, but she wanted to stretch it out for an hour and a half? It made no sense to him, and he came to the sharp realization that she wasn't thinking clearly.

"DG," he said slowly, reaching for her. With a yelp, she jumped away. Clearing his throat, he tried again. "Darlin'."

She scoffed. "You can keep your 'darlin', Cain."

He arched his scarred brow. "Okay, you either tell me what's wrong or I put you on that horse myself."

DG began to mumble to herself as she mounted. He caught _'stupid'_ and _'thinks he'_ and _'God damn'._ Stepping forward to lift her, as the stirrups were lengthened for his legs and not hers, he caught a glimpse of a soft, pale thigh as she swung her leg over. Immediately, he cast his eyes away, telling himself words like 'time and place' that hadn't seemed to work before. In the suns' light, so close to their goal, he knew she was right, that something _wasn't_ right.

When he pulled himself up behind her, she tried to scoot away from him, an impossibility. When before, she'd melted into him, now she held herself stiff against him. The DG he knew would be near screaming with delight to finally be relieving herself of the burden of the Emerald. Cain noticed how her hand had settled on her pocket where the Emerald lay, wrapped in one of Serita Ellston's handkerchiefs.

When his arm went about her waist, she tried again to draw away. "I'm not gonna hurt you, DG," he found himself saying, trying to reassure whatever bothered her – as it seemed to be him.

"I know," she whispered, her voice cracking. "But..."

Cain didn't ask, didn't wait for a response. Giving the mare a gentle prod with his heels, he transitioned her into a full gallop, until they were racing along the ridge towards the Tomb as he had once before, though this time he felt in his heart he was riding towards a different kind of rescue.

* * *

_- The Wilds of the West -_

* * *

As the suns rose, Lt. Shore began feeling a strange sort of pressure in his throat. The trail they followed had cut along an obscure path, into the trees, into the middle of nowhere. The possibility of finding the princess was growing slimmer and slimmer. But... there was hope.

She was growing careless.

"Sir."

The lieutenant turned to his human companion, to see the young man holding up a pair of muddy slippers.

Taking them in hand, he studied them, turning them over and over. They were white, or once had been before they'd been marched through the woods. The heels had been bent down, as if they'd been walked on; the shoes were utterly destroyed. "Where did you find these?"

"A ways off the path, sir," the human soldier responded.

Again, Shore turned the shoes over in his hands, studying them and thinking. Without a word or gesture to the soldiers that followed him, the outlander continued up the path, taking advantage of the almost full light to move more quickly. His heavy boots tromped through the cover of leaves and moss, erasing the trail that had been laid out for them to follow.

The incline crested onto a ridge that spread out before him, continuing on endlessly in either direction. Shore bent down, ran his rough, pebbled fingers over the imprints the princess's horse had made in the gravel. The tracks were heavy, telling him the horse rode two... the four dead bodies they'd found the previous morning made more sense, a guard protecting his charge.

_We might be too late._ Shore shook the thought from his head. He could not, _would not_, go back to his commander empty handed.

They walked the ridge quickly, risking the daylight, risking being seen. Who would see them? They had found a few cabins along the way, left them undisturbed, though they knew that the princess had stopped at one. However long she'd stopped, it had given them a chance to catch up, and though they did not come across the little witch to overtake her, they stalked behind, hunting... somehow knowing he would eventually find her.

It took them almost an hour, walking at a fast pace along the ridge, to find the only other clue to the whereabouts of the princess. In a secluded glade of trees, the horse that he had been tracking was tethered to a tree. The mare snorted as he approached, her ears flattening.

"Shh," he soothed, reaching out to touch the mane of the horse. She pranced nervously sideways, trying to pull herself free of the reins. Shaking his head, leaving her alone, he walked back to his soldiers waiting for him on the ridge.

"They've entered the Gale tomb," Lt. Shore told his companions, his words clipped. The Emerald was as good as lost to them. The human soldiers looked at the ground, kicking up stones with the toes of their boots, waiting for their further instructions. "We wait here. Keep a sharp eye. The entrance is here somewhere. Find it."

"But sir –"

Shore turned on the soldier who'd spoken. The human winced at the lieutenant's sharp glare. "What?" Shore seethed through his teeth.

"I... I heard tell the place is guarded by magic, that only a Gale may enter."

Shore smirked. This much he knew to be true. Humans could sometimes be very shortsighted. "They have to leave eventually, don't they? And when they do, we'll be here. We'll be ready for them. She is only a princess with a single guard. Don't think you can handle one human guard?"

The soldier stuttered. "But the princess has magic. Strong magic." Yes, all of the Commander's forces had heard of the little Gale witch who had overpowered three outlanders singlehandedly, the lieutenant before him being one of them.

"Don't worry about the Gale and her magic. If she tries to use it, she will tire easily. We will outlast her."

The human soldier eyed the lieutenant warily, and nodded.


	32. Chapter Thirty Two

**Author's Note**: Thank you to all my readers, reviewers, and subscribers.**  
**

* * *

**Of Light  
**

**Chapter Thirty Two**

* * *

_- The Wilds of the West -_**  
**

* * *

It was near suns' rise, Saturday morning. The air was cold, clear; Andrus was glad to be surface level again. Around him, his soldiers moved quickly, making ready to leave. Though the scene may have caused confusion to an untrained eye, the work going on, despite looking hectic, was carefully organized, as choreographed as a dance.

One group of soldiers would be staying behind at the complex, guarding every entrance they had been able to find – which were many. A second detail would be leaving for Central City, carrying nothing of import but a few moldy documents dated from over a century before. The third group would be leaving with Andrus himself, on her Majesty's orders, to ride to an obscure location to regain the youngest princess, and the Tin Man who accompanied her.

Andrus stood aside with two men, both watching him expectantly. Knowlton, a bastard if there ever was one, even by Andrus' standards, would be staying behind, in charge of the men guarding the complex. Smug with responsibility, he smirked at the young corporal who was leading the group back to the city.

"Corporal, you are to ride straight to Alta Torretta," Andrus commanded. "You will stop for nothing, and no one."

Jeremy Hass nodded. "Yes, sir." Dismissed, he headed for the small contingent of soldiers who waited for him. Andrus watched as they rode off, the road too wet for them to kick up a trail of dust. All the better. The general himself was only taking a small group with him to move fast and without impediment to the location given him by the Queen's advisor, Ambrose. His orders were to take as few men as possible, and he was leaving the bulk of force at the complex. He didn't expect that the enemy would return to the spot, but Knowlton's orders were to comb the mountains in the meantime, looking for any renegade Longcoats, rumored to be taking refuge in the hills and caves.

Andrus didn't like the secrecy surrounding the next leg of his mission. His men, though not yet informed, would be having todays memories wiped from their minds when they returned to the city. Although he knew of the importance of the Gale Tombs, he thought such furtiveness for security a bit of a stretch, though it was not his place to argue with The Queen, especially not through her advisor. It wouldn't hurt anything, or anyone.

What bothered him further was the fact that finding the princess was not a guarantee. They were to ride to a ridge, hours by road to the south, and _wait_. Wait for two people who might be there, might not; might arrive, might not.

Mounting his horse, and shouting an order for his men to ride out, Andrus was shaking his head with utter frustration. A wild goose chase through the mountains... Andrus smirked, as close to a smile as he ever got. Another long, tireless day before him... perhaps before the week was out he would see his own bed, his wife.

As he rode, Andrus thought about retirement. Running around the countryside, worrying about runaway princesses and banished outlanders, not to mention the undercurrent of the persistent Longcoat threat... he was too old for this kind of thing. Let a younger man deal with the re-brained royal advisor, the backlash that would come when the people discovered the Queen's plan to put Azkadellia on the throne.

Gales were nothing but trouble. Just and fair rulers, yes; adept users of magic, yes; beautiful beyond comparison, yes; trouble... _yes_.

He thought of a little cottage, down south in Lake Country. A porch, his wife, his dog. His yet unborn grandchild running, sweet and carefree. He could live out his remaining annuals in relative peace... of course, he'd have to get through this last mission first.

* * *

_- Alta Torretta, Heart of the Shining City -_

* * *

Jeb Cain stood lazily outside of the door of Princess Azkadellia's suite, standing guard over a person who was in no danger. He'd relieved the palace guard a half hour before, though his shift hadn't started for another two hours. It was second sunrise, though in Central City, it was always near impossible to tell such a thing. Near breakfast, perhaps, the light might be high enough to reach in the windows, but for now, only the paling dark was any indication that the night was fading.

Though his face was impassive, his mind was a whirlwind of strange thoughts. After their initial kiss, Az had nearly devoured him with passion and need, which he figured had been pent up for a very long time. Jeb, himself, had had no complaints, and never before had he held a woman as beautiful or composed as Azkadellia – though he had to admit a bit of composure had flown off the balcony, so to speak.

It had only lasted a few moments, however, before she'd chased him from the room, citing gossip and propriety, turning off the fire that had consumed them as quickly as she could turn on that mask of _HRH the Princess Azkadellia_.

He'd been awake the whole night. Feeling guilty that he wasn't more worried about his father, that he had just locked lips with the princess – which he hoped didn't turn out to be some sort of a crime - oh hell, there was no way it _wasn't_, but damned if he wouldn't do it again... if the opportunity arose, of course.

Standing outside the door, in the gray morning light, Jeb's mind was wandering; but when Azkadellia screamed... _screamed!..._ Jeb was through the door in an instant, his heart pounding at the sudden noise, worried and clueless about what he would find on the other side.

Azkadellia was kneeling in the center of her massive bed, arms clutched about her head as if trying to ward off a blow. She was shrieking and shrieking from under the shield of her arms. Quickly, Jeb scanned the room with his eyes; the balcony door was shut tight, everything looked as it should, neat and orderly, albeit a little dusty. Rushing to the princess, he clambered up onto the bed and when he tried to touch her arms, she only curled tighter.

"Princess!" he called out, as she continued to scream. A nightmare, maybe? She'd been sleeping peacefully a half hour before when he'd arrived...

Az's wails were beginning to draw the entire floor. Within minutes – minutes of her screams of abject... Terror? Misery? He didn't know, but she would not stop – Glitch was at the door, his eyes rimmed with exhaustion, skin extraordinarily pale. He looked like he'd been jostled awake by one of the maids, his assistance direly needed.

"Whats wrong with her?" he asked, his eyes frantically searching the room for the reason, just as Jeb had done.

Jeb could only shrug. "She won't stop screaming!" His ears were beginning to ring; he had to shout to be heard over her.

Glitch stood staring at the princess for a moment, as if coming to a decision. Then, in a swift move, climbed up onto the bed, and sat beside her, gently taking her by the wrists and prying them away from her head. At the touch, Azkadellia visibly stiffened, but her screams ceased in an instant.

Az slowly peaked through the space between her arms, as if she were just coming out of a trance. When she caught Jeb's eyes, she grimaced and blushed. "I'm sorry," came her immediate whisper; in the next second, she turned to Glitch and wrapped her arms tightly around his shoulders, burying her face in his neck. "Oh, Ambrose," she moaned, and began to cry. "DG and Captain Cain are in danger."

Jeb caught Glitch's eyes. The advisor's eyebrows had nearly shot into his hair with surprise at Azkadellia's sudden embrace. Jeb shrugged at him, watching the back of Azkadellia's head as she pressed her forehead into Glitch's neck; her long dark hair was tousled from sleep, hanging like a dark stain against her white negligee.

"Andrus has already left the complex where you were kept," Glitch said carefully, slowly, in what Jeb considered a very 'Ambrose' voice. "He'll be there by evening. The general will find your sister."

Az shook her head violently, and wrenched herself away from Glitch. "No! You don't understand. The Commander isn't going to let it go that easily. He's not going to let _her_ go! Even if Andrus finds her, he'll kill anyone and everyone in his way to get to her!"

Jeb was confused. "Her? You mean, DG?"

Weakly, Azkadellia nodded. "Ambrose, you must send a vehicle for them. A transport truck, a car, I don't care. Andrus has to get there as fast as possible! And I need to see Raw. Now."

Glitch looked from the princess to her guard. "I will need to inform your mother, and –"

Azkadellia cut him off by holding up her hand; he stopped speaking immediately. "Ambrose, I don't care what you have to do, just get it done and get it done fast. Do you understand?"

Glitch nodded, used to being ordered about, though Azkadellia had spoken few words to him since the Tower, seven weeks, a lifetime, before. "Yes, your Highness." Slipping off the bed, he left the room at full speed.

After the door had closed, Az dared a glance at Jeb, offering him a pale smile that quickly turned into a frown.

"You want to talk about it?" he asked her, not knowing what else to say. He moved from his knees before her, to better sit properly beside her. He watched her carefully.

After a moment, she spoke; her words were tentative, as if she didn't know which ones to use, as if she wasn't used to having someone listen to her when she managed to find them. "It was an awful dream. I'm sorry I screamed like that, I just... didn't know I was doing it until you and Ambrose were here on the bed. How did you get here so fast?"

Jeb shrugged. "I couldn't sleep, so I started early. I was out in the hall."

Az's frown deepened. "What about Ambrose?"

Jeb quirked his mouth in a line reminiscent of his father. "I don't know. Maybe someone went to wake him up. Maybe you woke him up."

Azkadellia moaned and cradled her face in her hands. "What an embarrassment. And I all but _yelled_ at him. Poor Ambrose."

Jeb chuckled. "I think old Glitch is used to worse things. And he's happy to do what you ask of him." When Az was silent, he sat quietly beside her, not wanting to pressure or pry. But the minutes ticked by, and his curiosity was too great to be sated with so little. "Your Highness," he said slowly, prompting.

Az turned to him, her brow furrowed. "We're alone, you can call me by my name, you know."

Jeb nodded, tried again. "Az... will you tell me?"

The princess studied him for a moment. "I don't think you're going to want to hear it."

He smirked. "Try me."

With a sigh, the words began to pour from her mouth. "My dream... I dreamed of the ridge, where the Tomb is. DG and Captain Cain came out of the Tomb, where the outlanders lay in wait. It was an ambush, and their numbers were massive..." Az paused, as her breathing came faster, more unsteady. "DG tried to use her magic, but there were too many and then... and then your father was killed. When he fell... she gave up fighting."

Az closed her eyes, in painful remembrance. DG's scream cutting through the misted mountains, as she fell beside the captain's body, laying prone on the ground. DG had reached out, touched his shoulder... _"Get up, get up!" _she cried. The Commander, his cold, hard eyes staring down at the heartbroken girl as he'd lifted her by the neck, watched the life extinguish from the sky blue eyes of her baby sister... her lovely little sister.

Az began to cry.

"Hey, don't," Jeb said, putting a hand on her shoulder, not risking a more intimate touch, not in her desperate state. Her sobs escalated quickly, until they racked her whole body, and he could feel the reverberations in his own.

"He killed her," Az said softly, through her sobbing. The words were forced, and she nearly choked on them. "Gods, he _killed _her, with his bare hands." She leaned towards Jeb, and, unsure of what to do, he put his arms around her shoulders, until they were supporting each other's bodies. He tried to soothe her, making small hushing sounds, stroking her back. "And then..." she trailed off. Jeb's throat seemed to seize; there was _more_? No wonder she had screamed so loud and for so long.

He didn't want to know, but how could he not...? "What is it, Az?" he asked.

The sigh that escaped the woman in his arms was shaky. Her harsh sobs had stopped, but still her body shook, and tears leaked from her eyes. She pulled back to look at him, and shook her head. "It doesn't make sense."

"What doesn't?"

Az looked down at her hands, knotted and twisting in her lap. It _didn't_ make sense. "He took the Emerald."

Jeb looked down at her, confused. "But... you said they were attacked coming _out_ of the Tomb. Wouldn't she have laid the Emerald back within its resting place?"

Az shrugged, her head spinning. "I don't know. It doesn't make sense. It was just a dream... a stupid, awful dream. But..."

He nodded slowly, understanding. "But you sent Glitch running just in case."

Azkadellia leaned into him again, pressing her teary face into his neck. The cold streaks her tears left on his skin made him shiver, or perhaps it was the connotation lingering around her dream that had her so worried. "Just in case," she whispered.

Though neither of them knew, they both prayed. Neither had prayed in a very long time; for Jeb, it had been months, since the death of his mother, begging whatever forces above that someone would find him locked in that damn iron suit; for Azkadellia, so much longer that she couldn't even remember. She felt weak now, praying to unseen forces, but she did anyway, if only for the sake of her sister.

There was a soft knock on the door. Guiltily, both Jeb and Azkadellia pulled away from each other. Jeb hopped down off the bed and took a few quick steps towards the windows; Azkadellia reached to where her robe was hanging off the bedpost. As she tossed it around her shoulders, she called out weakly "Come in."

The door opened, and the Viewer poked his head hesitantly through the door.

"Princess asked for Raw?"

Azkadellia smiled, glad to see his comforting leonine face, his soft eyes speaking nothing but assurance. He could sense her distress, it had hit him like a tonne of bricks about ten feet from her bedroom door. "My sister, Raw... I need to know if she –"

Raw held up a furry, gloved hand. "Princess. DG and Tin Man have gone under cloak of magic, where Raw cannot see."

Azkadellia shook her head. "Already? They couldn't have gotten there so fast!"

Raw shook his maned head. "Tin Man find way."

Jeb spoke up from behind. "He probably hijacked a horse." He sounded amused; the distress of the last few minutes was already fading from his memory; after all, a dream was just a dream.

* * *

_- The Road Beneath the Desert -_

* * *

Somewhere, high above his head, above the shifting desert sands, the suns were rising. The Commander stood over the desk in his small office. The garrison where they'd stopped for the night before making the desert crossing was dusty and falling into disrepair, just as the base in the Outer Zone had been. Today the slaves and his soldiers would walk the day-long stretch of tunnel that burrowed far beneath the sand.

He was waiting, and he didn't like to wait. There had been no word from his lieutenant, though he hadn't expected there to be. It had been a shortsighted mistake to leave that fool in charge of reclaiming his emerald, but there might be hope yet. He was not one for abject pessimism, perhaps Shore would surprise him yet. And if not... well, he'd best not see the idiot again, rather than have him turn up empty handed.

The Commander sat down in the desk chair, which groaned underneath his weight. He was just beginning to growl with impatience when there was a knock upon the door, and it opened slowly.

"You summoned me, sir?" the old caretaker asked, poking his head into the room. He did not enter fully until the Commander waved him in.

"Ah, Jowan," the Commander said with a smile. "How are you?"

Tired, old Jowan looked a little taken aback by the Commander's welcoming mood. "I am well, sir."

The Commander nodded slowly. "It has been a long while since you went scouting for me."

"A very long while, sir. I've grown too old for such frivolity, if you'll understand. The long hikes in and out of the O.Z. are hard on my old bones," Jowan responded.

The Commander arched his hairless brow. "You can drop the act, Jowan."

The caretaker studied the outlander for a moment; with a defeated sigh, he straightened his spine, stood straight, wiping the grimace of senility from his face, to become someone stronger, more capable. The Commander gave a gravelly chuckle. This was why he liked the old man, and always had, why he'd kept him on as a scout after taking his father's place at the head of their division. The old man was conniving, self-preserving, almost an outlander, but for his weak human flesh.

"What do you wish of me, sir?"

The Commander motioned to the chair before his desk; the old man slumped down into it, sitting with a casual grace that belied his age. "When was the last time I sent you into the O.Z. on a scouting mission?"

Jowan thought for a moment. "My last news was of the young princess's plans to build a fortress to hide the machine she coveted. Someone else went for you after that."

The outlander nodded. "You will go back the way we came, old man. Head into the mountains, towards the Central City. I want you to take up residence there. I want you to keep a close eye on the royal family."

"Spy, sir?" The old caretaker looked as if such things were beneath him.

"Yes, old man. Spy. News has reached us that Queen Locasta and her daughter Azkadellia have reached the safety of their army and the fortified city. You will watch them for me."

Jowan looked skeptical. "Sir..."

The Commander continued, ignoring the caretaker. "I will send a scout for your reports. You are not to leave the city. Are my instructions perfectly clear?"

Old Jowan nodded, though the Commanders demands were far from clear, he knew what was expected of him. This was definitely an unexpected turn of events, but perhaps it was one he could mold to his benefit... and perhaps to the benefit of those to whom he was truly loyal.


	33. Chapter Thirty Three

**Author's Note**: Thank you to all my readers, reviewers, and subscribers.

* * *

**Of Light**

**Chapter Thirty Three**

* * *

_- The Crypts of the House of Gale - _**  
**

* * *

The Tomb was cold and dark and quiet; those three things, she noticed first, the quiet most of all. As they had stepped through the doors, the whispers had ceased, and it was blissfully silent. Her bare feet padded faintly on the marble, but Cain's heavy boots made enough sound for the both of them, echoing off the high walls. DG stopped him in the alcove, before entering the gigantic, circular room that led to their destination.

"I don't like it here," she said, rubbing her arms. Immediately, she felt his jacket drop about her shoulders, and she smiled gratefully up at him. With no shoes, the height difference between them was more pronounced, and even in her sour mood, she felt a little twinge in her abdomen, something akin to excitement, a step off of joy, just from looking at him.

_Oh God, Deege, focus. This is no time to turn into a puddle of goo, _she told herself.

"This place is incredible," Cain said, his voice low. Never in his life had he seen such opulence. He tried not to think about the fact that they were in a mausoleum, a strange, magical structure that housed the remains of those of royal blood extending back over a hundred and twenty years. He knew he was looking upon one of the O.Z.'s greatest secrets, a place few living had ever seen. Gone was his usual unimpressed glare; despite himself, he was looking around with interest, blue eyes wide with awe.

"Yeah, it's something else," DG muttered, her voice a hundred miles away.

"What do you need to do?" Cain asked her. Already he'd noticed she was acting strange, stranger than she had been a half hour before when they'd broken onto the ridge. He stood a few feet behind her, watching as she stared down the hallway into the grand, open room at the end of it. Cloaked in semi-darkness, her back to him, he could see that she was shaking.

"I need a few minutes before I go in there," she whispered. She felt Cain's hand on her shoulder, heavy and comforting, holding her to where she was... exactly where she didn't want to be. Somehow, in all the flurry and racing of the last few days, it had somehow slipped her mind that entering the Tomb would mean reliving a very recent horror... she couldn't enter the circular antechamber, where the green marble coffer sat on its pedestal... not yet, anyway.

She took a few deep breaths, which quickly turned out to have an adverse effect on her. Tears sprang into her eyes, unbidden. "DG," she heard Cain say from behind her, but his voice seemed to be drifting away. Turning only to see that he hadn't moved, she shook her head.

He noticed her tears. "Hey, what's wrong?" he asked her. Speaking no words, she only held out her arms for him to come to her, and without hesitation, he crossed the space between them in two strides, and wrapped her into an embrace; she fell into his arms, and clung to his shirt. His jacket fell from her shoulders to the floor. Again, DG's sudden mood shift took him by complete surprise, and his only response was to hold onto her tightly as it seemed to be the only thing she wanted or needed.

DG continued to shake, though her tears stopped after a few minutes. In the safe shelter of his arms - maybe the only place she was safe - she relaxed into him. Cain felt her soften under his hands, and pulled her back, to hold her at arms length.

"You gonna tell me what's botherin' you?" he whispered to her gently. "'Cause I can't keep up unless you tell me what you're thinkin'."

DG gave her head the slightest shake, imperceptible but for the fact that he was watching her closely. Studying her for a moment more, he then nodded his head towards the antechamber. "Come on, let's get this over with."

Her feet, however, were planted to the floor. She opened her mouth to speak, and promptly closed it, again wagging her head from side to side slowly, each turn of her jaw pronounced, catching the light that spilled in from the room ahead of them. All this way, everything they'd faced, she thought she'd be able to do anything, but... she wasn't ready to see that coffin. She made a short 'uh-uh' sound in the back of her throat, not even daring the words.

Cain sighed. "Sweetheart," he said, "you look like a spooked deer. What is it?"

Her mind was whirling. _Get it together... you have to go in there. Cain can't do this for you, and you _know_ there is no way you can tell him about the time you spent in that box. Just... walk. Walk. _WALK.

DG took a few reluctant, tentative steps; strengthening with each one, she didn't stop. Cain followed her, walking a few steps behind, a hand hovering over the holster at his side. When they entered the circular room, his eyes went immediately upwards.

"Great Gale," he whispered.

DG stopped, as she had before, at the wrought-iron rail surrounding the repository in the center of the room. She looked down, head spinning, keeping her eyes carefully trained away from the source of her agitation. She wondered, briefly, how many generations of her family were laid to rest in these marble crypts. Cain joined her at the railing, standing so close as to brush his arm against hers. She noticed his fingers resting lightly on the gun sitting in its holster.

"There isn't anything to worry about, Wyatt," she said softly.

Cain turned to her, the use of his given name catching his attention, rather than the words she'd said. His lip twitched in a familiar way, making her smile, putting her at ease. The light shining down from some unknown source above highlighted his blue eyes, making them clear and deep, and she found herself burying into his arms again.

He rested his face in her hair. "You all right now?" he asked, sensing her calm returning.

DG nodded. "Yes, I think I am," she said, her tone hushed. Looking up at his face, she realized that she'd yet to thank him for everything he'd done for her recently, for guiding her, protecting her. Feeling a little silly, but unable to shake the indebted pull in her chest, she leaned up on her tiptoes, placing her lips close to his ear. "Thank you, Wyatt."

His arms slid around her waist to steady her. "For what?" he asked.

DG rolled her eyes; damn chivalrous Cain. "For making sure we made it here," she told him. Pulling back a bit and reaching up further on her bare toes, she placed a soft, quiet kiss on his lips. Her eyes fluttered closed as he accepted, then responded to her. Cupping his face in his hands, pouring all her worry and doubts into him, until they melted away; their kiss deepened, her tongue sweeping his lower lip, meeting his in the space between.

When she pulled away, he smiled down at her. "What was that for?" he asked.

She shrugged her shoulders. "I needed a kiss for courage," she said, remembering their first kiss, and how he'd tried to chase all her fears away. Reluctantly leaving the shelter of his arms, she wandered along the right side of the repository, towards the huge, carved doors that were her destination; to her utter dismay, Cain took the path to the left, walking right past the casket that the Sorceress had locked her in. Unable to tear her eyes away, she noticed him watch it curiously as he passed; it was still open.

Before he could say anything, she began to speak. "I don't know how long this will take." She motioned to the doors.

Cain nodded, understanding. "I'll be here," was all he said.

Part of her wanted to smile, wanted to say _I know you'll be_, but the words wouldn't come. Instead, cutting off the lingering gaze she turned to the doors. The metal panels set into them glowed, their seals burning lava-red. The doors swung open of their own accord, as if someone was awaiting her... walking through without fear, she entered the crypt of Dorothy Gale.

DG knew immediately that something wasn't right. There was no engulfing white light; when the doors closed behind her, she found herself not on the Kansas farm, but in a long, dark room, illuminated by the same overhead source as the antechamber. She turned around to see the white doors leading back in the direction from which she'd come.

She took a few slow steps, the marble floor cold on her feet. She could feel the Emerald growing warm against her leg; she extracted it from her pocket, and unwrapped it from the handkerchief. It shone from within, casting its warm, green glow on her palm.

"Hello?" she finally called out.

"You came," said a disembodied, familiar voice; Dorothy's voice. Turning around in a slow, full circle, DG didn't see anyone right away; she took a few more steps towards the heavy marble casket at the end of the room, and as she approached, a hazy figure materialized, taking the form of the young girl she knew, her ancestor.

DG tried to smile; she wasn't used to people appearing out of nowhere. "Of course I came. Did you think I wouldn't show?"

Dorothy's pale gray face was sad. "I worried something might stop you. Dangers lurk everywhere; you are hunted."

DG sighed. "Tell me something I don't know. Here, I brought you a present." She extended her hand, holding out the Emerald. Dorothy, however, only stared at it for a moment, did not take it. She looked back to DG.

"Did the dreams I sent you help?"

DG frowned, let her hand drop, feeling foolish holding it out when Dorothy did not yet seem ready to take the Emerald. Apparently, she wanted to talk first, which was fine with her. There were things she wanted to know... "You _sent_ me the dreams?" she asked.

"When I realized the danger our family was in, I knew you were the only one who could save them. So I sent you my memories, to help you on your journey," Dorothy told her; her voice was quiet, and reminiscent of the whispers that had been bouncing around in DG's head for the past thirty-six hours.

"Couldn't you have found a way that didn't involve invading my sleep?"

Dorothy's lips stretched into something akin to a smile, though still sad, wistful, barely there. "I'm dead, my resources are limited." DG laughed at that, but cut it short thinking it inappropriate. Dorothy continued, "As Guardian of the Emerald, it was my duty to protect it at all costs, despite the fact that it was held by another."

DG was confused. "Why couldn't you send your memories to Azkadellia? Or warn her about the outlanders before they captured her?"

Dorothy's thin smile widened a little. "This is your test, DG, not your sister's. Azkadellia's test comes, the core of it rooted in the kingdom. Her reign will be her test."

DG sighed, and reminded herself to relay this information along to her sister. "Well, did I pass my test?" she asked, with a tentative smile.

"Your test is not yet over," Dorothy said, shaking her head. "But it is not yet time to speak of that. First, you have questions. It is only fair that I answer what I can while I am still here."

DG looked down at the Emerald, still enclosed in her hand. She thought back on all the dreams she'd had in the past week, pulling on what bits and pieces she could remember; the one that stood out most was the nightmare. "What happened when you touched the Emerald? Why did it mark you?"

"The answer to that I do not know myself," she said with a sigh. "Pastor always told me that it _chose_ me, though I do not think that is true. Perhaps I was just the first human female to touch it after it came out of the mines of the outlanders. The magic that dwells within it stained me in an unchangeable way, and I've accepted this fact, though it took many years."

"Is that why Pastor made you queen? Because of your magic?" DG thought back to what her captor had told her. "The Commander told me that only a person with magic could sit on the throne."

Dorothy smiled, a real smile. "I was in the O.Z. for over eight years before Pastor died and left me his kingdom. I possessed the Emerald, and though I tried on numerous occasions to give it to him, he always refused." She paused here, and DG waited respectfully; it took a moment for the girl... spirit of the girl... to pick up where she'd left off. "Pastor became my surrogate father in this strange place; why he took me in had to do completely with the fact that I held the Emerald, but we grew to love each other as a father and daughter might. Over the annuals that passed, his cruelty became less. He once told me I brought the Light back into his life. I think... I think it was the birth of my daughter, and the fact that my magic passed to her, that cemented his decision."

DG smiled, making the connection. "A Daughter of Light?"

Dorothy nodded. "Yes. I think Pastor saw the mark of the Emerald as a sign that my descendants were the ones of whom the prophecy foretold. His astronomers told him the Eclipse was still over a century away... and then a girl possessing the very stone mentioned shows up at the gates of his city." Dorothy smiled again at her memories, ones that she had shared with the young woman before her. "I didn't find out about the prophecy and the connection of the Emerald until annuals later, and by then, I was on the throne, and it was too late."

Dorothy held out her hand to show DG her palm; whereas DG's mark upon her meeting with Father Vue had been something like a tattoo, Dorothy's mark was a scar cut into her skin, permanent. DG watched it, uneasily.

"You are a Daughter of Light, DG, and that is no easy burden to bear. It comes with responsibilities too heavy for a mere mortal to shoulder. Your magic is your strength. You were born with this strength." Dorothy's gray eyes bore into DG, making her uncomfortable, but she didn't look away. "It is very rare, to be born with magic. Do you never wonder why the Tin Man outside of this room does not use any magic?"

DG thought about that for a moment; she couldn't say that it had ever crossed her mind. The only magic she'd ever witnessed was that of Azkadellia, and herself; though she knew the Mystic Man had once had great power, she'd never seen him use it.

"Dark magic can be sought by anyone," Dorothy told her, her voice lowering. "If a person is not born with Light magic, it must be bestowed upon them... and what natural force does that, even I do not know. Maybe because I was an Other Sider, I was more vulnerable to the magic of the Emerald."

_The Emerald._ DG held out her hand again. "Please take it."

Dorothy shook her head. "I will not take it. The Eclipse is over, the Emerald no longer needs a guardian. It holds me here, but I am tired, and do not want to wait any longer to cross over the Shifting Sands. I long for peace, I long to be reunited with my consort."

DG thought it strange to hear this girl, no more than fifteen years old, speaking of a husband, of passing on, but then again, she'd faced stranger things in the past two months since the cross over from the Other Side. "Is this why you told me my test isn't over? Why do I need to be tested, anyway?"

"To be a Daughter of Light is no easy burden to bear," Dorothy repeated.

DG rolled her eyes; she was growing frustrated, and angry, feelings that boiled up from deep inside. "Why did you call me here then, if you don't want the Emerald?" she asked, feeling petulant with the words, but forming them anyway. "I've had a headache all night, listening to this stupid thing." She looked down at the Emerald in her hand, before closing it in a fist; if she held it any tighter, it might cut into her flesh, but she didn't really care. _ Let me bleed._

"The release of the Witch rests on the shoulders of you and your sister," Dorothy said bluntly. DG scowled at the gray girl before her.

_Yes, let's bring that up again_, she thought bitterly. _Let the payment for it keep on coming. _

"DG," Dorothy said, "if one good thing came from the release of the Witch of the Dark, it was that during her reign, she struck down all others who used Dark magic, all other minor demons and witches in the darkest corners of our country and the lands beyond."

DG nodded slowly, realization dawning as Dorothy continued to speak. "DG, you must destroy the Emerald."

_Did I hear that right?_ DG wondered. "What?" she asked, incredulous. "_Destroy_ it? I've been running around like crazy for the past week trying to _protect_ the damn thing!" Now she was beyond subtlety.

Dorothy smiled. "As you rightly should have done. The outlanders never sought to use the magic of the Emerald, the descendants of Roke only wish to horde it, to keep it as a trophy. Though it has been over a hundred years, it is still a source of pride, and perhaps sentimental value. Outlanders are not without emotion."

DG smirked. "Well, they could have fooled me."

Dorothy took a moment before speaking again, and her words chilled DG to her very core. "The outlanders, DG, will be the very least of your worries. In the darkest corner of this country, an evil force gathers with the remnants of the Sorceress's army."

"The _Longcoats_?" DG was shaking her head. _When will this nightmare _end? she thought. "Can I put in some sort of resignation? 'Cause I think I quit."

Dorothy chuckled, the first amused sound DG had ever heard from the girl; it had a strangely comforting effect. "I do not know what force in this world can destroy the power of the Emerald. What I do know is that the Emerald will be safe here as it always has been until you can find a way."

DG sighed a small breath of relief. "So I _can _leave it here?"

Dorothy nodded. "For now. I will not take it... underneath the casket is a small vault, where it was laid to rest when I died."

DG shifted uncomfortably. She noticed then that Dorothy seemed to be growing hazier; she was fading. Their time was almost at an end. "On the anniversary of the Eclipse, your quest will begin. There will be signs, I think, to guide you in the right direction. Trust in yourself, and in your friends. You will not go alone, do not worry about that. At the very least, the Tin Man in the antechamber will always be there to follow you."

DG did not take any comfort in this. "What do you know about him?" she asked, slightly defensive.

"Your love for him binds him to you, though he will never know this. He is a good man, DG. In his heart and yours, both of you know that you do not travel the road alone."

DG was silent, she didn't know what to say to that. Thoughts of Cain, swells of emotion washing over her, taking away her ability to speak.

Dorothy waited a moment, before continuing. "When the power contained within the Emerald is destroyed, only the stone will remain, useless, just another gem. Beautiful, but without magic."

DG looked down at the Emerald; the glow within it had dimmed. "Why me?" she asked her rapidly disappearing ancestor.

Dorothy smiled, a truly radiant smile. She was beautiful, DG noticed. "I stopped asking myself that question a long time ago. I suggest you do the same."

"Wait," DG said, "don't go. I still have to ask you –"

Dorothy shook her head. "My task here is complete. When the power is gone from the stone, you might use it as a bargaining chip with the Commander. I'm sure he has something he'd be willing to trade for it; after all, it _is_ truly important to him and who knows, he might make a strong ally in the battle to come."

DG closed her eyes, trying to process this last piece of information, the strangest yet. The Emerald, a bargaining chip; the Commander, an _ally_? When she opened her eyes, Dorothy was gone, leaving behind only a remnant of a whisper that made DG smile. _The slaves, DG_.

She might be able to right all her wrongs yet.

DG looked around the empty crypt; she was completely alone. The Emerald in her hand felt cold; the sight of it made her stomach churn. Quickly, she crossed the room and knelt before the green marble coffin, identical to the one that rested in the antechamber. This one, however, did not bother her, despite the fact she knew the remains of the girl she'd just spoken with were encased inside. She closed her eyes and gave a small, silent prayer. For strength, or courage, or help, she didn't know, she only prayed...

It took her a moment to find the vault Dorothy had spoken of; it was only a small drawer set in the pedestal. She pulled it open, to find a small bed of white satin; with a sigh, DG pressed the Emerald to her lips before lowering it into the drawer, and closing it.

_Until next time, _she thought, as her stomach turned painfully.

DG slumped down, leaning her forehead against the cool marble pedestal. Cain was waiting for her. She tried to force herself to her feet, but it didn't happen. Instead, hot tears began to flow from her eyes, and in the cold, empty, lonely crypt, the Daughter of Light cried.


	34. Chapter Thirty Four

**Author's Note**: Thank you to all my readers, reviewers, and subscribers.

* * *

**Of Light**

**Chapter Thirty Four**

* * *

_- The Crypts of the House of Gale -_**  
**

* * *

It took around a half hour for the admiration of the Tomb to fade, leaving Cain with a sinking nervousness that had him checking the clip in his gun. He paced the grand hall a few times, passing the open casket set upon a pedestal; risking a glance inside, he saw that it was empty.

DG had told him she didn't know how long she would be, though what exactly she needed to do inside the crypt of Dorothy Gale, he didn't know.

Stopping to lean against the railing that circled the well in the center of the room, he gazed downward at the spiraling steps that continued on into darkness. The entire Gale line, queens and consorts and sons and daughters, lay resting peacefully beneath his feet.

It was only a matter of time before his brain floated away to the cabin in the shadow of the white elm, where his wife lay in her lonely grave. _Adora..._ the eight long annuals he had been separated from her, thinking her dead as he himself _felt_ dead. His heart turned to tin inside his chest, a prisoner inside his still animate body, just as he'd been a prisoner in the damn suit that kept him alive, breathing, but not _living_.

The pain of discovering her makeshift grave, to see the tin suit so hauntingly identical, keeping watch over it.

Jeb had had to watch his mother die, over and over and over. These were words that had never passed between them, for the two said precious little, having only that much to say. The nightmares of Adora's murder had faded in the weeks since finding the resolution to his love story buried in the cold earth, his tin badge guarding over her for him. Remnants of a life gone.

Absently, he twirled the ring he wore still on his finger. _Adora..._ someday, it would be time to pass this onto his son...

Looking at the double doors ahead of him, he wondered if one day another might take its physical place... he knew there would never be anything in his life that would replace the memory of his wife, that she would never be forgotten, but... it seemed strange, too strange, to be thinking in this cold, lonely place of continuing on with his life, but he knew that his life was already moving on down the road.

_As it rightly should, and as she would want it to. Adora would not condemn you to a life of misery,_ Cain tried to tell himself._ She might think you a fool, but Adora would like DG... _both strong, independent, _stubborn_ women, they would have gotten along...

At least he hoped so. He tried to console his doubts, but it was difficult to know what was right. His mind still floundered with the obvious thoughts... DG's age, status... but the dead, aching heart in his chest argued... _She brought us back to life, can't deny that._

Actually, he knew exactly how much he could deny it... deny her. He'd run from her for a month, in Central City, avoiding her letters, refusing her requests to visit. Thought, obviously a little foolishly, that if he could stay away long enough, whatever force that kept drawing them together would fade... and it had been working, until Azkadellia's letter had shown up on his desk, and he was on his way to Finaqua.

A faint, choked sound caught his attention; straining his ears, he realized that it was DG. Moving across the antechamber, he stood a little closer to the carved white doors through which she had disappeared. It took a moment of listening before he realized she was crying. After a few more minutes, listening to her muffled sobs, he growled low in his throat at his indecision; to go to her would mean interrupting whatever she was doing – but she was _crying_, and damned if the girl hadn't been through enough in the last week. When he tried the handle of the door, it seemed locked fast, would not open.

Cain backed up to the railing and leaned against it, waiting for her to come out. The sobs, loud enough to sneak out underneath the heavy doors, went on too long, wrenching at his resurrected heart. He watched the floor, hating the fact that he could do nothing, too concerned to ignore her.

Finally... the click of the door as it opened echoed off the walls. DG came out slowly, staring at her feet; Cain caught a glimpse of a long, dark room behind her before the doors swung shut on their own.

"Hey there, Princess," he said gently, carefully.

DG glanced up at him, as if she'd forgotten he'd be there waiting. Her eyes were rimmed with red, puffy; the blue of them seemed to hold a depth of sorrow that even he couldn't comprehend. Though her breathing was steady, at his words, her face crumpled and she began to cry quietly once again, not the previous harsh sobbing but something faint and far more heartbreaking.

Cain stepped forward and gathered her up in his arms. "Hey, shh," he soothed, rubbing her back in slow, even circles.

His princess wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling herself impossibly close. She was trembling, and her skin was cold, as if she'd been doused with icy water. She didn't speak, not right away; instead, she pulled away when her breathing began to once again return to normal, and she looked up at him.

"It's not over," she whispered. "I don't know... don't know what that means yet, but... but... it's not..."

"Hey," Cain said again, a little more commanding. "We can talk about it later. You need to calm down."

DG gave a tiny, hollow laugh. "I would love to. I just... I want to sleep. Can we stay here for a few hours?"

Cain nodded, although it wasn't what he had been planning. To get out of there as fast as possible to get back on the road, to get closer to Central City, that had been his plan. But to look down at her, to see her seeming so unbelievably lost and fragile, he'd give her absolutely anything she wanted.

"Yeah, we can rest for a while. We both need it," he said.

DG smiled gratefully at him; she skirted the iron railing, walking to the wall, where she slid down and landed in an exhausted looking heap. She gave a sigh, which turned into a groan, as she cradled her head in her hands. Wyatt followed her lead, sitting down beside her with his back against the wall.

"So you gonna tell me what was botherin' you outside?" he asked after too many minutes had passed in silence, and she made no move to get comfortable to rest.

DG took a deep breath. "I don't know, exactly. I feel better, now... I mean, minus _that_," she said, waving a hand at the double doors to their right. She leaned her dark-haired head against the wall, closing her eyes, and tipping her chin towards the ceiling. "I don't know what's different now, but I feel... _lighter. _Maybe it's because I'm not carting around the Emerald anymore. One less thing to worry about... at least, for now."

Cain nodded, slow understanding seeping in; of course it had to have been the Emerald, the burden of it, the weight. It was the only thing different. But... "DG, that doesn't explain why you were so riled at me."

DG sighed, not speaking right away, not opening her eyes. The expression on her face was pained. When finally she did open her eyes to look at him, he saw her eyes were filling with tears again. "I'm sorry, Wyatt. I didn't mean to be like that, but... I don't think I was the only one being affected by the Emerald."

Cain smirked. "DG," he began, but she started talking again before he could continue.

"No, I'm serious. I mean, do you remember what to said to me Thursday night?" She didn't actually give him time to answer, but began to talk very fast, as if she were worried if the words didn't come out rushed, they wouldn't come out at all. "You said it wasn't the right time, and that we deserved more than a 'quick moment', and then after the trouble with the Longcoats... well, you know." She blushed furiously then, and he couldn't help but smile at her frustration. "And it happened again, too. We were supposed to be running for our lives, but we still found time to... well, take a quick moment." Her face was a shade of red he'd never seen on her before, and damn, if it didn't compliment her. She wasn't angry with him now, she was embarrassed. The tears he thought he'd seen were gone, she only stared at him, waiting for him to respond to her accusation, that he'd been influenced by the Emerald into taking her as his.

Cain realized then she thought he hadn't truly wanted her at all; though the truth was so far from that, it almost hurt to know she thought it. True, he couldn't quite explain what had come over him the three times that his resolve had come undone since leaving the prison, but that didn't mean... oh hell. To prolong the inevitable moment when he'd have to answer her, he ran a hand over his face, looking around the magnificent room in which they sat.

DG was watching him expectantly, fearfully when he finally spoke. "I can't say what it was, DG. I can say lookin' back that the timing of it all might seem a lapse in judgement... but that doesn't change the way I feel, darlin'," he said. She winced then, as if expecting some sort of emotional blow. _Damn it, this isn't going well,_ he thought, and when he tried to put an arm around her, she scooted away.

"Sweetheart," he said slowly, "was the Emerald in your pocket when you came down to my cell and I kissed you for the first time?"

DG's face brightened a little; though it was slight, it was there. Belief. "No," she said slowly, drawing the word out into a sigh.

"Was it with us when you came down after that nightmare you had?" The memory of her slippery nightgown, the softness of the swells of her as she sat completely pliant on his lap invaded his mind.

DG shook her head.

"I can't tell you that the damn Emerald wasn't affectin' either of us, because it's beyond what I know. But I can tell you that what I gave you wasn't forced, or faked." With a sigh, he felt his face growing hot, his own embarrassment settling in; thankfully, looking at her, he knew he'd said enough. She was _beaming_, a smile so blinding and brilliant that it caused a smile to creep onto his own lips.

When he reached for her again, she came to him easily, sliding into his arms as if she belonged there, and perhaps she did; her head rested in the hollow of his neck. He pressed his face into her messy hair; it tickled his nose, making him smile. "When we get out of here," he said slowly, "I'm gonna get you to a bed and show you just how much I really want you."

DG glanced up at him, an impish grin on her face. "You could show me here."

Cain's smile vanished, replaced with a very familiar set line to his lips. "I think makin' love in the crypt of the royal family is a little inappropriate."

DG's jaw fell, her mouth slightly ajar; catching herself, she quickly closed it. It wasn't lost on her that he'd use the term _'making love'_, but she pushed it away; that was too much for her, to think about the possibility of what their future might hold. Instead, she gave him a playful nudge in the ribs, trying to mask her elation.

"See, then it was the Emerald. 'Cause if it was in my pocket, you'd be all over me."

Cain chuckled. "Oh, you think so?"

DG lay her head against his chest once again, listening to his heartbeat. "I know so."

They fell into comfortable silence, both completely lost in their own thoughts. But after a little while, Cain realized that she had begun to stiffen once again. "What is it?" he asked her. Following her eyes, he realized she was watching across the room, to the marble coffin that sat opposite.

"Nothing," she said quickly, shaking her head.

"It's not nothin', kiddo. You're stiff as a board."

"It's just... that coffin," she said, pointing to it, as if there were another one in the room it could be confused with.

"Well, you don't need to worry about it. It's empty, and even if it weren't, the last person that came back from the dead in the O.Z. is right here in my arms," he said, watching her; the light drifting down from overhead illuminated her pale face, making her skin glow. How beautiful she was tugged at him. But when he spoke his words, he noticed how her face had paled, her lips pressing together.

"It's empty_ now_," she said softly. She looked up and trained her eyes onto him; once again, the sadness had overtaken the baby blue. She gave him a weak, apologetic smile.

"You need to talk, Deege," he said.

Her smile became a little brighter, a little truer, at his saying her name. She looked around the antechamber, weighing her words carefully before speaking.

"Do you... do you remember, before storming the Witch's Tower, you told me..." She paused, and Cain knew that the admission was not coming easily to her; it meant a lot to him that it was coming at all, and he didn't press her, only watched her, waiting. "You told me not to forget myself, because it would be the one time that you wouldn't be there to help me."

Cain nodded slowly. He remembered the words that had come from his mouth, as clear as if it had happened hours before. From what he understood, she'd handled herself just fine up on the balcony, and that really, there had been no reason for him to worry about her in the first place.

"Well, it wasn't. The one time, I mean," she said, her voice dropping octaves with every passing word, until her tone was so low, the whisper so weak, he could barely hear her. "The Witch locked me in that casket and left me there to die."

Cain sighed deeply, though he did not speak; he knew her story wasn't over. Anger at his failure to protect her, something he was feeling far too often these days, was washing over him, hard to quell though he tried to force it.

DG continued in her breathy whisper. "It took hours, at least I think, but I managed to use my magic to get myself out. And then you come riding to the rescue on that damned white horse," she said, not unkindly. In fact, she laughed then, sounding a bit more like herself.

Cain shook his head, looking at her; his arms were still around her shoulders, but when she looked up at him, he could truly tell himself that her dour mood was indeed lifting. "I didn't know how much trouble you were in, darlin', or you know I would've been there sooner."

He felt proud of her for what she had done, and for her being willing to admit to him that she'd been in trouble. It was no easy thing, he knew.

Suddenly, she ducked her head into the hollow of his shoulder once again, her entire body stiffening; it took a moment before he realized she was only yawning.

"Okay," he said with a sigh, "let's stop with the sharin' and get some sleep." He got up and retrieved his jacket from the entryway, where it had fallen from her shoulders when they'd arrived and been forgotten. Sleeping on a cold marble floor wasn't going to be any good, but he knew that the magical protection of the place would allow him to get some real sleep; it had been almost two days, and sitting with DG had made him realize how truly exhausted his body was.

He bunched up the service jacket to use as a makeshift pillow, and stretched his long frame out along the wall. DG settled down beside him, laying with her head on his chest, his arm around her. Despite the chill of the floor, it was the most comfort he'd felt in more than a few days, perhaps longer. The princess beside him gave a contented sigh, and he knew it wouldn't be long before she was sleeping.

But instead... "Wyatt?" she asked, after a few moments.

"Hmm?" His eyes were closed, and he did not open them.

"Why have you always helped me? Every time I needed you, you're there... why?"

Cain sighed, thinking carefully about his answer. He opened his eyes, and shifted to lean up on his elbow, so that she was still cradled against him, gazing up at him with those clear, innocent eyes. His heart beat painfully, guiltily in his chest.

"Well... what's any red-blooded man gonna do when a beautiful woman asks him for help? He's gonna nod his head, and say 'Sure, I'll do my best.' And then off we went, every time."

DG didn't speak right away; a coy smile stretched across her lips. "You think I'm beautiful?"

The corner of his mouth twitched, the tips of his ears turning red. DG pushed playfully on his chest. "You don't have to answer that," she told him, looking entirely pleased with herself, "but you do have to kiss me."

Cain smirked. _Bossy princess_, he thought, but he willingly complied, leaning down to capture her mouth in a scorching kiss, one that tugged at the lower parts of his body, weakening his will to avoid defiling the royal tomb. When her mouth opened willingly to his, allowing his tongue entrance to brush sweetly with hers, he thought she, too, might be willing to forgo amenities, but when she purposefully pushed herself against his groin, he forced himself to pull away.

DG didn't notice the fact that he'd had to stop himself. She grinned up at him. "Wait," she said slowly, "you helped Az, too, when she asked you. Does that mean you think she's pretty, too?"

Cain rolled his eyes, and growled at her. "Go to sleep, DG." He settled onto his back once again, tightening his hold on the warm body pressed against him. She said nothing more, only cuddled into him, burrowing herself as close as she could possibly get... and for the first time in a very _long_ time, Cain slept peacefully.

Hours passed before either of them stirred; it was DG that woke first, having slept blissfully without dreams for the first time in the whole hellish week. Cain awoke as she pulled away, sitting up. She glanced down at him, admiring the way his blue eyes fluttered open, immediately focusing on her. Awakening at the Ellstons, she'd absently thought that she could get used to waking up to Cain... now she wondered how she was going to be able to wake up _without_ him when they returned to Central City.

"Morning," she said with a smile.

Cain smiled back at her, a true smile. He sat up with a groan, and was on his feet before her, holding out a hand to help her up. She took it gladly, stretching the stiffness from her body, arms lifting high above her head, eyes closing. When she opened them again, he was shrugging his jacket onto his shoulders.

"You ready to get on the road?"

DG sighed. "Do we have to? Can't we just... take our time?"

Cain shook his head, his smile returning. "I'll be surprised if that mare hasn't chewed through her reins waitin' for us."

"Ah yes," DG said. Their horse would be growing impatient, if she hadn't already done what Cain had said, and wandered off. The thought of walking back to Central City did not inspire DG in the least, especially considering she was now without shoes.

The two walked side by side out of the Tomb; DG did not look back, though her mind whirled with everything Dorothy had told her; she was surprised she'd been able to sleep without dreaming of Emeralds and outlanders and dead girls. She knew she would be returning, all too soon...

The doors swung open, washing them in bright daylight. The suns had risen in the sky, though she had no idea on how to tell how long they had been in the Tomb; by the hazy light, she figured they were well into the afternoon.

It bothered her that she had no idea what the future would hold for either of them, if they would be able to stay together, if he would even want to. She tried to console herself by remembering all the words he'd spoken so softly to her when he'd held her in his arms before they'd slept.

"How far is it to Central City?" she asked him; the cool late-afternoon breeze felt good on her face, the mountain air refreshing her.

"A day, maybe. Sky looks clear, we might be able to find a place to stop and get somethin' to eat," he said, knowing that both of their stomachs would be growling soon. Through the trees, down the small hill that led down to the ridge, he could see the mare, standing patiently moored where he'd left her, waiting as if they'd only been gone a few minutes, not hours.

"Mmm, and don't forget," DG found herself mumbling, "you promised me a bed." The glimmer in her eyes left no question as to the intention of her words.

"I am a man of my word," he said, and yanked her towards him. As his face lowered to hers, a sudden sound behind them caused him to pull away quickly; he withdrew his gun from its holster. Too late.

"Tsk tsk," said a cruel, gravelly voice. "Is that any way to treat a princess?"


	35. Chapter Thirty Five

**Author's Note**: Thank you to all my readers, reviewers, and subscribers.**  
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**Of Light  
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**Chapter Thirty Five**

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_- The Hidden Threshold of the Crypt -_**  
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Simultaneously, both DG and Cain cursed the other in their head for being such a distraction.

Where the outlander and his company had lain in wait, neither knew. DG only knew that one second, she'd been leaning in for a kiss from a man who made her head spin, the next she was literally spinning to see the outlander walking towards them. Cain drew his gun, but four human men had already stepped out from where they'd hidden in the deep forest growth. In less than a minute, they were surrounded, and at gunpoint.

The outlander was closing in. Cain grabbed DG roughly by the arm and yanked her behind him, all the while keeping his gun trained at the massive creature coming toward them. DG glared at him, the heat of her eyes scathing. One of these days, she would catch a break... and probably die of the shock, and subsequent boredom of it.

"Don't I know you?" she asked the outlander, as he came to stand directly in front of Cain. His four soldiers trained their guns on the Tin Man; DG was too scared to move, too nervous to keep her mouth shut. "Weren't you one of the – "

The outlander curved his lips into a sneer. "Yes, your Highness. I am Lt. Drake Shore." He gave a polite nod of his head. "I will not be underestimating your magic a second time. Though, I dare say, the numbers are a little more in my favor now."

DG exhaled shakily. "Can you call off your dogs?" she asked, nodding to his soldiers.

"I don't think so," the lieutenant said, his sneer widening.

"What do you want?" Cain asked. At the sound of his voice, DG found herself reaching out snake a hand underneath his jacket, to grip his shirt between two fingers; the barest possible amount of contact, but God, if it didn't anchor her to him... Cain shifted ever so slightly toward her, and the rough material of his service jacket brushed her arm.

"I was sent here to retrieve the Emerald. Take in mind," Lt. Shore said, speaking directly at DG as if the shield of Cain was non-existent, "that your refusal to hand it over will result in the death of your escort."

With those words, DG heard the unmistakable sound of the four weapons pointed at her Tin Man being cocked, the strange electronic sound of priming up, those strange guns, and she hoped to hell the extra chambers and wires didn't make them any worse than their counterparts on the Other Side.

"Wyatt," she whispered, trying not to let the fear in her voice stand out... but who was she kidding? Her mind was whirling, racing past moments that she didn't want to relive... the Longcoat attack, the ambush in the woods... the Witch's tower, the time she'd spent in the coffin... back and back until she could almost smell the death and decay of the Papay fields, and Tutor's voice, his always strangely fortuitous voice, rang clear in her head.

_DG... use your gift..._

Her eyebrows shot upwards at the idea, as her head began to spin on an entirely different track. _What do I do, what do I do?_ she asked herself again and again, as if Tutor's voice or her sister's would suddenly explode with the right answer.

The lieutenant was staring at her, his gray eyes cold. She tightened her two-fingered grip on Cain's shirt.

_Well, DG... nothing like trying something new,_ she told herself. Concentrating harder than she ever thought she had on her magic, she willed herself to be able to do something she'd never tried. She tried to project her voice, herself, to Cain.

_"Wyatt, can you hear me? God, please give me some sort of sign that you can hear me."_

Cain cleared his throat, and oh, if she stretched her imagination, it could almost have been an affirmation.

DG's heart leaped; her grip on the back of his shirt tightened further still, her fingertips brushing against the muscles of his back. She could feel the heat of him through the material that covered his skin, his jacket bristled against the back of her hand.

The lieutenant was growing impatient. "It is time for you to retrieve the Emerald for me, Princess."

DG shook her head. "It's too late. The Emerald is already encased within the Tomb, I can't just walk in there and take it out again." Okay, so that was a bold-faced lie; she depended on Shore's ignorance, she hoped not too much.

"That is very unfortunate for both of you," the outlander growled. To his men, he gave a slight nod of his head.

DG didn't know how she managed to react so fast; quicker than she could even think about it, she screamed "No!" as all four weapons discharged at Cain; she threw her arms out, and a shield of pure magic ensconced them; translucent, but solid, the bullets deflected, sparking where they ran into the barrier.

The four enemy soldiers ducked and shouted, as their bullets waylaid in different directions; Lt. Shore, however, only glared at them more maliciously.

Cain had craned his head to look at her, watching her carefully over his shoulder. "How long can you hold this?"

DG closed her eyes to shut out the distraction of his intense blue eyes. She came to a stark realization. _Not long_, she thought, trying to send her voice to him again. _"Please don't move,"_ she begged him, hoping that he could hear her voice ringing inside her head. She'd apologize later for the invasion...

Shoving her arms to the side, away from her body, as if to push outwards at the walls of their shimmering, white shield, DG focused on the blast, as all four of the human soldiers toppled, their weapons flying out of their hands and hanging suspended in midair.

DG's hands suddenly burned with the force of her magic; holding her hands wide open, fingers extended, a second blast of energy erupted from her open palms. The weapons, all four, blew apart, metal and wires flying everywhere. DG cried out, her arms flying over her head to ward off the projectiles; a flash emitted around her, and the pieces fell uselessly to the ground.

"Enough!"

It was the shout of the outlander. Wyatt put out an arm to hold her behind him as the four soldiers began to stagger to their feet. DG's hands tingled with the anticipation of another attack.

"I can do this for a while," DG said; she sounded confident, but truly she was doubtful of that fact. How much longer she could keep it up, she wasn't sure; though her magic itself was powerful, her magical stamina had yet to increase much since beginning her lessons; foolish now to think how much she should have been paying attention to Toto.

Somewhere in the fray of energy and light, Cain had trained his weapon directly onto the lieutenant again. Cain was tense, DG could read frustration and agitation in his shoulders, the way he stood, probably torn between depending on something he couldn't see and counting her magic as a powerful ally.

Perhaps none of this was the answer; this was a battle neither would win. DG knew that Cain would die for her before letting her relinquish the Emerald, she knew that she would also die for it, if it came down to that. She knew she would never be able to use her magic to kill the men standing around her, either, and if she used too much of her power, she might lose consciousness.

Dorothy's words rang into her head, as invasive as she always seemed to be. _When the power is gone from the stone... use it as a bargaining chip with the Commander... it is truly important to him... might make a strong ally..._

DG took a deep breath. No time like the present to start the negotiations... and perhaps she and Cain would walk away from there. She put a careful hand on Cain's arm. He glared down at her, taking his eyes off of the outlander for only a moment, before turning back to his opponent.

"Wait," she said, stepping away from the shelter Cain gave her. She directed her words at Lt. Shore, trying to stop her voice from wavering, or cracking as it liked to do when she was upset.

"Stop moving, girl," the lieutenant commanded; despite being unarmed, his men looked ready to jump Cain and subdue him the old fashioned way. The thought of them hurting him made her stomach lurch painfully.

"Kiddo," Cain said, his voice harder than she'd heard in a long time.

She looked up at him, asking him with her eyes to trust her, trying to calm him with her mind. _"It's okay. Let me do the talking. Just don't lower that gun."_

Cain lowered his chin slightly, studying her with his eyes, his face stony, impassable. He exhaled deeply, and without having to say a word, DG knew he'd understood her, heard her.

DG took a defiant step forward; the outlander took a step towards her to match her movement. She swallowed nervously.

"You're a brave little witch," Lt. Shore said angrily.

"I am not a _witch_," DG told him, defensive. A breeze blew her hair away from her face, though whether it was natural or because of the magic boiling inside of her, she didn't know. She held her hands before her in supplication, showing him that she had no intention of using her magic... and she didn't.

"You play a dangerous game, little girl."

DG looked away, trying to keep her anger in check; she was tired of being considered a child, treated as one, escpecially when everyone seemed to expect the world of her. She straightened her spine, knowing Cain was at her back.

"I have a message for your master," DG said, trying to harden her voice to the low, even tone Cain was always able to manage under stress. She wanted so much to be able to just hide behind him and let him take care of everything, but Cain was only one man with one weapon, and they were surrounded. How many soldiers would he be able to shoot before they wrestled the gun from him if they attacked again?

Lt. Shore smirked, looking amused. "You might deliver it in person, Princess. If you do not hand over the Emerald, we'll have to take you as a consolation prize."

DG slowly shook her head. "I'm not going anywhere but home."

The lieutenant sighed. "Must it really come down to this, Princess?"

"If you take the Emerald, or me, you could start a war."

The smirk was back, this time wider, more menacing. "Girl, your mother's country is a broken shell. Her army is in disarray and her most important advisor spent almost ten annuals separated from his brain. The Commander's forces are _vast_, and his resources unlimited. To start a war would be a very foolish thing." Then he laughed. "The entire House of Gale went missing for almost a week and the country was none the wiser. How do you know your parents would not just fake your death again, and cover the whole messy business up?"

What little confidence DG had faltered. Probably his exact intent.

She laughed, trying to regain her grip on herself. Her fingers began to tingle again... _No, no. You can't attack him. _She didn't even understand what she was doing, what she was supposed to do, but she did it anyway. "I have a message for your master," she said again. "It's a good one. You're going to want to hear it. So you _might _want to tell your lackeys to back off."

The lieutenant watched her carefully for a moment, and then nodded towards his soldiers. Then... no! Instead of backing off, they all advanced on Cain and herself at once. DG cried out in protest, trying once again to throw up a shield, but the sudden leaping of her heart made it hard to focus on what she was doing; there was one useless flash of light, and then men continued towards them, unscathed.

Time seemed to slow down for her... a mere five steps, and the soldiers would be on them. Cain grabbed her roughly and dragged her up against his chest as he fired a shot. One soldier went down, stumbling backwards; he hit a tree and then fell sideways, into the thick undergrowth, where he lay, motionless and almost out of sight.

It took a second to register that Cain got off a second shot; the soldiers had bridged the gap and were upon them – as the second shot was fired, the soldier whose heart it was aimed at yanked down on Cain's arm, so that the muzzle was forced downwards. The bullet entered the soldier's leg, and he fell away with a scream of pain.

What happened over the next few seconds, DG wasn't sure; she felt rough, human hands grab around her upper arms, trying to yank her from Cain's grip. She clung to the front of his jacket, but an arm wrapped around her waist and began to drag her away. Her eyes zeroed in on the flurry of movement of Cain and the last soldier as they engaged in a battle to beat each other to a pulp; somewhere in the battle, the gun had been thrown away. In a few swift moves, Cain swept his leg out to hook the man's ankles, knocking him to the ground.

DG screamed, enraged. Immediately, the soldier holding her let go, yelling in pain; certain she'd scorched him, she turned on him, white stars exploding before her eyes as she directed a blast of energy directly at his chest. He was knocked backwards, and he tumbled head over heels down the hill towards the ridge.

More hands seized her; summoning what energy she had, she tried to push against the hard, towering body that held her. _"Bitch!"_ the lieutenant cried out as his sandpaper skin burned with the contact of the princess. Ignoring the fiery pain in his hands, he tightened his grip on her, staring down at her so maliciously that she almost felt her own face begin to burn. Concentrating hard, DG tried to summon what she had left, but she felt tapped, drained... her head snapped to the side, trying to find Cain. He was struggling to his feet, leaving the unconscious or possibly dead soldier laying prone on the ground.

"Wyatt!" she cried out. Somehow, between the two of them, they'd conquered all four soldiers, but she'd almost run dry and Cain was no match for the outlander unarmed.

Unarmed... the lieutenant had yet to even withdraw a weapon; her mind whirling, she knew that he _must_ have one. He had her pressed firmly against his chest, glaring down at her... his hand hovered near her neck, as if he might be thinking about strangling her.

_Please, please, just a little more. Concentrate, DG... concentrate._ Images of light on rippling water, spinning dolls, glowing symbols raced through her mind, and she felt a spike of energy.

_"Cain, catch!"_ she thought desperately. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the lieutenant's weapon fly through the air towards her partner.

All the air seemed to escape her then as Cain's voice came from behind her, strong and sure. "Let her go."

The lieutenant glared mercilessly at Cain; DG felt herself being spun around to face Cain, to see his eyes so intense and hard that it hurt to see him so angry. The outlander's hand closed on her throat, only resting on her skin, scratching her, but in a perfect position to apply dangerous pressure. She swallowed hard, trying to regulate her breathing. It had come down to this, it all came down to this... she was empty, almost helpless, trapped by a body a foot and a half taller, two hundred pounds heavier. To fight him might mean death.

A horrible thought flashed through her brain... would a bullet even penetrate an outlander? Without intending to, she knew she'd projected the thought to Cain; his eyebrow cocked at her, and his lips set in a firmer line.

"I'm willing to take the risk," Cain said firmly.

DG closed her eyes, and waited for the shot. It didn't come. Seconds passed, before she braved to crack her eyes open. The Tin Man and the outlander seemed to be sizing each other, staring each other down, a show of pride and of rage and of something far more primal. Ozian law against a banished mercenary. DG shivered, a feeling like an electric shock coursing through her skin.

The lieutenant gave a hoarse shout, a strange foreign word that sounded like a curse. A moan cut through the air, the strange sound of a man in pain; the soldier shot in the leg was struggling to get onto his hands and knees. Without taking his gaze or his aim off of Lt. Shore, Cain gave the man a hard shove with his foot.

DG took a deep breath, wondering if she could summon anything to save her life; how many times over the years had she used that silly little saying, she couldn't _cook_ to save her life, she couldn't _sew_ to save her life... how those things could save her life now, she would never understand...

_Daughter of Light._

Her hands began to warm, and she knew they must be glowing faintly, though with the outlander holding her arms straight down at her sides, she couldn't be sure.

… _To save her life. _

To save Cain the pain of losing her, of letting something happen to her. She would not be another mark on that man's conscience, not when...

A couple of hundred feet from the spot where they stood, weeks before, DG had stood in confrontation with her sister and the Dark Witch that possessed her. The Witch's magic had been fluid, in control, with no scorch marks or flashes of light to betray the subtle events.

_Witch._

Grasping onto thoughts of those times past, DG pushed with everything she had in her; a scream ripped from her lips at the impossibly painful effort. Light magic, like fire, coursed through every vein in her body, and a shock-wave erupted outwards, throwing both Cain and the lieutenant off their feet; Cain flew backwards and hit the closed, concealed doors of the Tomb, as the outlander landed on his back and slid a few feet down the hill.

DG spun around, stalking towards the lieutenant; the blast had not been strong enough to render him unconscious, only to knock him off his feet. DG stood over him as he rolled off of his back, moving to stand again. Her hand flying up, she held him in place; she could hear him choking, trying and unable to draw breath.

Her voice was weak, all her energy draining straight out of her hands. _"I have a message for your master,"_ she whispered, a third and final time. Looking up at her, almost fearfully, the lieutenant only nodded.

Behind her, she heard Cain crossing the distance to her; he walked up behind her, his arm extending past her to hold the gun trained directly at Shore's head. She felt him against her back; he was completely rigid, how he managed to keep himself from shaking, she'd have to ask later. His free arm encircled her waist, holding her protectively close. "I've got you, darlin'."

Cain's voice, the gentle touch of his hand against her stomach, sapped the rage out of her, almost as if the contact was sucking out her poison and anger. Letting her connection to the lieutenant break, dropping her hands to her sides pathetically, DG almost fell backwards against Cain. "He can have the Emerald... _after_ I've found a way to destroy the magic that dwells within it."

Against her, Cain shifted. "DG," he said slowly.

Ignoring him, DG watched Shore struggle to his feet, watching her warily, ready to be attacked again. He didn't know how completely exhausted her powers were. She had sucked herself so dry, she wondered if she'd ever be replenished; if they were attacked by anything bigger than a coyote, she might not be able to defend herself.

"No, it's okay," she told him.

Shore was on his feet, and glaring down at her. Shrinking back against Cain, she managed to project what strength she had left into her eyes, and her voice. "Your master will have the Emerald within two annuals time, though any promise beyond that I can't make."

"How can I trust what you say?" Shore asked.

"You can't." DG was surprised; her head turned sideways and she looked up at Cain as he spoke to the lieutenant, his aim never wavering off of the outlander's head. "Take it or leave it, Lieutenant. Leave it and we'll find out if you bleed."

DG nodded. "When the second anniversary of the Eclipse has passed, the Commander must send an envoy to Central City. The Emerald will be passed to him, and your master can have what he wants."

Shore was still shaking his head in disbelief. "This is a Gale trick."

DG's vision was beginning to swim. She clung desperately to consciousness, wanting only to resolve the entire mess. Then she'd be perfectly happy to pass out in Cain's arms.

"I think you've seen plenty of 'Gale tricks' this afternoon," DG said slowly, weakly. "Now go, the Commander is gonna want this news pronto."

A strange sound cut through the day around them, ringing clearly over the wind rustling the trees about them; the sound of hooves, of shouts, of men. DG craned her neck past the outlander, through the trees. She could vaguely make out the shapes of men riding hard and fast along the ridge; she could make our four or five figures.

_It couldn't be... _

"Well, look at that," Cain said, sounding amused... how the hell could he find something funny right now? He lowered his arm, so that the gun was aimed towards the outlander's chest. "It's the cavalry."

Her heart leaped with hope. "Take the message," DG said, not unkindly, to the lieutenant. "Otherwise, it'll be your turn in a prison cell."

Shore considered her words. After a few moments, as the sound of hooves grew louder, as the men caught sight of the group and began to shout; she heard her name and Cain's called. _Princess Dorothy Gale! Captain Cain! _

In the flurry of very few seconds, the men were off their horses, running up the hill with weapons drawn, all pointed on the outlander; at the sight of the men alighting their mounts, DG collapsed, and Cain dropped his weapon to catch her.

"Take the outlander into custody," said the man at the forefront, the only one who had not drawn his weapon. Cain had met the man only once, but knew him as a general, the name escaping him.

"No," Cain said firmly. "The princess wants him to carry a message back to the Commander."

The general eyed Cain with suspicion, as his company of three soldiers began to secure and search the area. One checked the body of the enemy soldier who had rolled down the hill, one continuing up the hill to where one of the lieutenant's soldiers still lay bleeding on the ground. "We got one dead up here, General!" someone shouted.

The third of the general's soldiers kept his weapon trained on the outlander. "This was not in the plan I was given by the Queen," the general said shortly.

Cain shook his head. "It wasn't in any plan. Seems things have changed." Cain swung DG up into his arms, securing his hold on her. "You'll have to ask this one when she wakes up."

The general bent to pick up the weapon Cain had dropped, holding it idly as he straightened, and studying the massive outlander before him. He gave a defeated sigh. "Fine. I will have two of my men escort him through the mountains to the border of the desert. Let the bastard die in the crossing."

Cain smirked. "Oh, I'm sure he won't."

A few hours later, twilight was descending; the first of the suns had set and the second lay half hidden by the horizon. Cain had raised DG's unconscious form up onto their stolen horse. He gently leaned her forward so that she lay resting against the horse's thick neck, her face cushioned by the soft mane. Never before had Cain seen a horse stay so still, and he gave the mare an affectionate pat.

General Andrus walked towards him. "You will ride to the road, and head east. You will meet an army transport that was dispatched a few hours after us. Stay on the road, and they will find you."

Cain nodded. "You should've brought more men," he said, nodding towards the one soldier left, standing watch over the three human soldiers who remained alive; two laying in an unconscious heap, the third moaning in pain as the young, allied troop bent over him, mercilessly digging around in his wound to remove the bullet lodged somewhere in his muscle.

Andrus turned towards Cain, considering him; after a moment, he laughed, and nodded.

"Make haste," the general said, as Cain mounted the horse. He pulled DG against him, leaning back slightly so that she could rest upon him; he had no idea how long it would be until she awakened, but he figured hours. Her magically induced stupor seemed impenetrable; she was limp and helpless in his arms, and despite himself, he found his grip tightening on her. Her forehead rested upon his neck, and her breathing was soft and regular; though she'd exhausted herself, she would be fine.

Taking the reins in one hand, he gave the mare a gentle nudge with his heels, kicking up rocks and dust as they left the general and the prisoners behind.


	36. Chapter Thirty Six

**Author's Note**: Thank you to all my readers, reviewers, and subscribers. A special thank you to Queen Isabella for her help.**  
**

* * *

**Of Light  
**

**Chapter Thirty Six**

* * *

_- Alta Torretta, Heart of the Shining City -**  
**_

* * *

After her nightmare, Az had only take enough time to nominally compose herself, before fleeing to her parents private chambers like she'd done as a little girl in the few annuals she'd existed as an only child. Jeb Cain had followed close behind her, never speaking until they'd reached the lift. When the doors shut, he turned to her with a stoic, impassive expression on his face that reminded her of Captain Cain, his father.

"Are you feeling any better?" he asked her cautiously. The poorly covered concern in his voice betrayed the indifference in his face.

She offered him a weak smile. "I've had worse days. I'll be better when DG is home and safe. And your father, as well," she added.

Jeb's hazel eyes seemed to darken at the mention of his father. He opened his mouth to speak, but the doors of the lift slid fluidly open in that moment, putting them in plain view of the grand hall that served as an entryway to the thirty-fourth floor; the entire residential level was dedicated to the reigning monarch and her consort.

Az smoothed her hands over the skirt of the simple, unadorned gown she wore; she lifted her chin and gathered her regal bearing. Two maids were hastily scrubbing at the floor-length mirrors that lined the hall, which were covered with annuals worth of thick dust. The women stopped to watch her curiously.

As the Princess Royal and her guard stepped out of the lift, the maids went back to their tiresome work, lest they seem rude; Jeb could feel, as they passed the two women, an undercurrent of apprehension, of fear. Though every willing Viewer in the country, with Raw at the forefront, had marched past Azkadellia, only to sense the dark presence in her gone, the people of the O.Z. still doubted, were still blindfolded by the darkness of the annuals they had endured. Not everyone would have the chance to know the sweet, caring woman that Az truly was; Jeb absently wondered how long it would be before the veil was lifted from the eyes of the country.

Azkadellia, to her credit, seemed not to notice, or at least did not let her knowledge show on her face. She walked upright, her pace was slow and serene. Though her back was to him, he knew she held a calm, kind smile on her face; when they passed a palace worker, Az's head would nod in greeting.

It took almost ten minutes at Az's carefully demure pace to reach the private living quarters of the royal couple. Two guards stood outside the heavy, carved wooden doors. Both bowed as Az approached.

"Your Highness," both said respectfully, the smallest fraction of a beat off of perfect unison.

"Are my parents awake?" Az asked. It was still taking Jeb some time to get used to her referring to the Queen and the Prince Consort as 'Mother' and 'Daddy'.

The guard on the right nodded. "They were awakened by Master Ambrose almost thirty minutes ago, with important news. I do believe he said he was on your orders, my lady."

Az nodded distractedly. "Will you please announce me to my mother?"

The guard bowed once more. His companion held open the door, and the guard walked tentatively into the sitting room, which was situated outside the bedroom. As the guard told her parents of her arrival and her wish for an audience, Jeb wondered what it would have been like to go through such procedure when he'd wanted to talk to his parents as a child. His heart gave a painful twinge as his thoughts ventured towards his father's long absence, and how very little his mother had had to say in the annuals after Wyatt had been taken from them.

Thankfully, the consort's voice called through the open doorway. "Az, honey, come in here," he said, that faint, unfamiliar lilt of accent both casual and welcoming.

Jeb followed Azkadellia into the lavish suite, and stood with his back to the door after the guards outside had closed them.

The Queen and her husband were having breakfast, sitting around a small, circular table near a wide-open window. Their daughter crossed the room to join them. She sat down gracefully and accepted the cup of tea her father offered her, giving him a tiny smile and a quiet 'thank you' in return.

"Ambrose told us you think vehicles should be sent for the general," Ahamo said loosely, a voice treasonous to the tension in his shoulders, which Jeb could see plainly from his position across the room. "He also said," the consort continued, "that you'd had a nightmare. Are you feeling any better?"

At this Jeb shifted uncomfortably, aware he'd asked Az the same question fifteen minutes before and hadn't received an answer. He watched as the princess, his charge, sipped her tea before nodding her head at her father. Az's dark eyes flickered towards Jeb, their gazes locking for the briefest of moments, before she turned back to her parents.

"I am, thank you, Daddy."

Her parents waited, thinking she'd elaborate further, but Az only fell into the dreamy silence she wore as a cloak daily. Only around him, Jeb noticed, did she truly let down her defenses. Not even to her own family did she relax, so terrified... of what, he didn't know.

"Azkadellia, darling," the Queen said, her voice soft and careful. Jeb was glad to see that the woman knew how fragile her daughter truly was, that the mask of control Az wore on her face was just that, a mask. "Ambrose told us that you were quite upset when you awoke."

_That_, Jeb thought, _is a tasteful understatement._

Az took her time in answering, as if choosing her words with great care. When she finally did speak, her voice seemed strained with her effort to keep it steady.

"I think it was just a nightmare, Mother. It was very... vivid, but it didn't linger, so the more time that passes, the more I'm sure it was just a bad dream."

The Queen shook her head. "You do not think it could have been a premonition?"

"No, no," Az said quickly, but firmly. "I really doubt that it was. All the same, I think sending a transport to aid the general in finding DG wouldn't hurt. I want her home as quickly as possible, don't you?"

Ahamo chuckled at his daughter's adept turning of the conversation. Her mother seemed to be at a loss for words. Jeb realized, as he watched the family interaction with bemusement, that Azkadellia hadn't actually revealed any of the details of her nightmare to her parents, when she'd so readily spilled them out to him. Not a single mention of the deaths she'd dreamed, or of the Emerald falling into enemy hands... but one look at the pale monarch, her agitated husband, Jeb wondered if it might be all right to spare them the worry of a nightmare induced by Azkadellia's hellish ordeals.

Though Ahamo seemed sated by his daughter's assurances, the Queen watched Az almost fretfully as the younger woman paid far too much attention to her tea.

"Azkadellia," the Queen said slowly, "secrets are destructive."

Her daughter remained silent. Az's eyes sought out Jeb's again; though he'd been watching her intently, he was the first to look away. Neither the Queen or her consort noticed Az looking at her guard; so often did the young woman's gaze drift into the distance that they just believed her to be watching nothing at all.

"Is Ambrose sending the vehicles?" Az asked her mother, ignoring the monarch's prior comment.

With a sigh, The Queen nodded, but she did not speak. As if they were of one mind, Ahamo spoke instead.

"Ambrose left here to send a message to the Tower prison. Two transport trucks are being sent to the Tomb, though there is no road that will carry a truck near there. They'll have to stop and wait at the nearest juncture, which is I believe around twenty miles or so from the Tomb."

Jeb tried to call a map into his head, but realized it fruitless, as he didn't know the location of the Gale Tomb; all he knew, from a hushed conversation with Azkadellia, was that it was in the western mountains, past the northern tip of Lake Country.

The whispered family discussion soon came to an end; stewards began to bustle in and out as another day at the palace officially began. The chamberlain, carrying a large book, came in to announce to her Majesty the day's planned agenda; though the Queen listened intently, Jeb noticed the consort's attention was wandering. He decided he liked Ahamo, though he was sure that, provided with a few details, the feeling would not be mutual.

When Ambrose returned, Az took this as her cue to leave. She got up from the table, bidding farewell to her parents and giving Ambrose an affectionate pat on the arm as she passed him; the advisor gave her a full, unrestrained smile and a jovial "Take 'er easy!" As he turned back to the royal couple, Jeb heard the advisor begin to glitch. "Take 'er –" He caught himself, muttered a humble apology to the Queen, and continued to speak as if his train of thought hadn't been disrupted in the slightest.

Azkadellia walked a purposeful path to the lift, confident that Jeb was following behind her; she did not turn around, only slowing when someone approached, as to seem more ladylike. Her heels clicked on the intricately tiled floor; Jeb could have followed the sound of her steps in the darkness.

When they were in the lift, and the doors had slid securely closed, Az leaned against a wall, not pushing the button to take them back to her room. She closed her eyes, letting her head fall back, exposing her slender white neck to him. Jeb looked carefully away.

"You were watching me."

Jeb's eyes snapped back to the princess. "I beg your pardon?"

"In my parents' chamber. You were watching me. You didn't take your eyes off of me."

Jeb smirked, feeling a difficult pull between being happy she'd noticed and disappointment in himself that he'd let her. "That's my job, Az, remember?" Her eyes seemed to light up when he called her by her name. Spurred on by her reaction, he let his mouth curve into a wider smile, a devilish show of teeth, a slight cock to one eyebrow. "Or are you keeping me around for other reasons?"

Az exhaled sharply, shocked by his insinuation. Her cheeks burned.

"I – I'm sure I don't know what you mean," she said, but her voice faltered, betraying her.

Jeb chuckled softly as he took a step towards her, feeling brave. He stood close to her, not a single part of his body touching hers, though the bottom of her dress brushed against his boots. He watched her, his gaze intent; realizing the longing in her eyes wasn't something she'd easily give in to, he raised his hand up to her face, caressing her cheek with the backs of his knuckles. Az closed her eyes, unconsciously tipping her face towards his, ready to receive but not necessarily to give.

Jeb, however, was willing to settle for that at the moment. Being so close to her, the tiny yet public space, the memory of the hot kisses of the night before was too much for his common sense to fight; sweeping in, he captured her mouth with immediate passion and warmth. With a small, stifled moan, Az relaxed against the wall, pulling him towards her so that he was forced to push out his arm to brace his weight against the wall. Her grip on his shirt was tight, full of desperate need as she responded fully to him, allowing his tongue access to hers in the hot cavern of her mouth.

His free arm snaked around her to jerk her hips towards his. Again, she moaned, this time louder. The taste of her was inebriating; he'd never been much of a drinker, but damned if he wouldn't become intoxicated by her if they kept this up, too drunk off of her sensuality to realize that what was happening was stupid, dangerous. Or perhaps those two facts were what convinced him this was exactly what he needed to be doing.

Azkadellia pushed him away; she was flushed, breathless. "Jeb..." she whispered slowly, her senses seemingly knocked about from the kiss. She took a deep breath. She was torn; this was not the place for this kind of thing to be happening. There were customs, protocols, after all, and none of them pointed towards the crown princess making out with her bodyguard in an elevator.

"Yes, your Highness?" Jeb asked her with a mischievous grin, only adding further to the mire in her head.

Az disentangled herself from him, falling against the wall of the elevator as he released her. Straightening her skirt, she looked at him. "Have you seen the rooftop arboretum?"

Jeb's eyebrows shot up in surprise; he stepped away, once again regaining a thread of his professionalism. Whatever he'd been expecting her to say, it hadn't been that. "Um, no, I haven't. Ambrose told me every tree in the arboretum is dead."

Az offered him the barest trace of a smile. "Precisely; there have been no gardeners hired yet, either. There isn't a soul up there." Her eyes glimmered, a bit of his own playfulness reflecting back at him.

_Damn_, he thought. _I think I've become a bad influence._

"I would be honored, Princess, if you would show me the arboretum," he said with a curt bow, something he had picked up from Ambrose.

Azkadellia's face broke into a full grin, as she reached past him to push a button, and the lift began to ascend.

* * *

_- The Desk of the First Advisor -_

* * *

Glitch always had a headache.

The joy of having his brain back in his head had long since worn off. _Long_ since. He'd forgotten what a pompous, anal-retentive person he was... used to be... was? He didn't even know, as he was the first person in the history of the O.Z. to have had a brain forcibly removed, and then reconnected. He had become something of his own experiment, and the psychiatric study that came along with it was amusing, most of the time.

Amusing, minus all the minor embarrassments that came along with conditioning his headcase self to deal with palace life. Forgetting to bow, repeating himself... accidentally calling her Majesty... oh gods... _'cupcake'._

Today, however, he was having an even harder time than usual concentrating around the headache. He'd spent the last week, first in Finaqua, and now in Central City, assisting the consort in any way that he could. When he wasn't aimlessly pacing rooms with Ahamo, he was with Tutor, researching what he could about outlanders and emeralds and ancient magics.

However, the cleansing of the Sorceress's regime had more than wiped out any resources stemming from the centuries before. Anything that they _had_ been able to find, there was nothing with which to compare it to; it was all a bunch of guesswork, which, thankfully, was where the Glitch in him shined.

The tiny stack of tomes they'd been able to find that vaguely referenced the outlanders, that gave the briefest mention of the Emerald, were stacked on his desk, and he was staring at them now, but not thinking about them. His feet were up on the desk and his fingers were templed in front of him, the tips pressed to his lips.

Azkadellia's nightmare that morning had shaken him. Ignoring (for the moment) that she'd thrown herself into his arms for comfort, she seemed to be bouncing back fine, but nonetheless, he was on an endless mind spiral of that morning; the maid who'd run into his room, wild-eyed, jabbering about the screaming princess, the sight of Az in a tangle of sheets and blankets screaming bloody murder, young Jeb Cain kneeling indiscreetly on the bed beside her, looking as lost and helpless as she as to what to do.

Glitch shook his head, extricating his fingers from themselves to run through his hair. It was nice to be rid of the zipper...

Rolling his eyes at himself at the ease with which he became distracted, he looked at the clock. It was near six o'clock. Corporal Hass's party had arrived a few hours before; after an audience with the Queen, most of the men had been sent back to the barracks, which was situated in the Bellicose District, near the gates of the city. The young corporal, however, at the insistence of the consort had been asked to stay at the palace.

A pile of moldy ledgers were sitting on the desk. Ambrose had gone through them, and had shown them to the Queen as soon as he'd known they held nothing of interest, except for one tiny entry. They were records, dating back almost two hundred years, with the most recent entry that of a hundred and twenty-two years before.

Glitch flipped through the ledger now, careful of the soft, crumbling pages. Near the front of the volume, some of the ink had faded, but... there. On the third to last filled out he read the words, the name, he remembered DG and her dream, the morning Cain had left with her mother and sister.

DG had seen the danger coming in her own strange way. All the above-average weird things seemed to happen to DG.

It always hit him suddenly, like having the breath knocked out of him, how much he missed his friends. Work distracted him, sometimes shiny things distracted him, he'd be walking along minding his own business and then _wham!_, it would hit him. The rough Tin Man and the tumbled princess, in his brain, impossible to get out.

There was a knock on the door. "Come in," Glitch called out, glad for once to welcome the next distraction.

Raw entered the room, walking in his cautious, shrinking way. "Glitch," he said at once. "Something happens. Raw feel... magical interference." The Viewer held out what was grasped between his hands. It was DG's little green-dressed doll, taken from her room in Finaqua, what he had been using to connect himself to their young friend.

"What in Ozma's name does that mean?" Glitch muttered to himself. _You should know this, Glitch_, he chastised himself. While he searched his formerly-pickled brain, Raw shook his head, watching his friend with the usual interest.

"Safe now. Disruption not last ten minutes, and now there is peace."

Glitch's eyebrows raised in surprise. "That was fast."

Raw shrugged. "Cain and DG not slow down for anyone."

* * *

_- Alta Torretta, Heart of the Shining City -_

* * *

Night had fallen over the O.Z., and within the walls of the palace in Central City, all was deceptively quiet.

Azkadellia had returned to the balcony for the second night. She was still in her dinner gown, having helped her mother entertain a dignitary of the Northern Guild, the first of many engagements that had been postponed, and postponed again during the last week, and the growingly conspicuous absence of Queen Locasta. The man's simple meeting had been embellished to a full dinner, as compensation for the lord's willingness to wait without raising a vocal fuss.

Az wasn't surprised that she found the entire thing taxing; while the man was perfectly all right, and nothing more was required of her than to answer a direct question, it was just too _soon _to be pretending she hadn't been imprisoned for almost four days.

She'd ordered a hot bath, and now sat just outside the balcony doors, brushing her long hair and letting the sounds of the city distract her. When someone knocked on the door, she wasn't surprised to see that it was Jeb. She stood when he entered, though she didn't have to. Just the sight of him sent her spinning back to the arboretum and a few stolen moments... unbelievably hot kisses, the feel of his mouth dragging along her skin... not that it had gotten them very far. He still looked a little angry with her.

"Did you come to say goodnight?" she asked, letting a faint tinge of hopefulness show through in her voice.

Jeb lowered his chin slightly. "No, I picked up a double shift. I'll be outside your door all night."

She almost glowered at him, at which he seemed almost to relax. "Why would you do that?" she asked, not wanting to sound suspicious, but she found it was hard not to be after what had happened in the arboretum.

He shrugged his shoulders with the grin of a born troublemaker. "I wasn't gonna be doing any sleeping tonight, so I figured I'd sit outside the door of someone else who wasn't gonna be doing any sleeping, either."

Az's lips settled into a firm, unamused line. "And why won't I be sleeping?"

His grin didn't break. "That's up to you, my lady. I just need you to to promise me one thing."

She laughed, louder than she'd meant to. "And what's that?" Despite herself, her lip was sent trembling.

"This stays a secret."

Whatever she'd been expecting, it wasn't that. Whatever defenses had been thrown up when he'd come into the room, now they were gone. She bit into her lip to stop it from quivering, speaking with a clear voice that was and wasn't her own. "This stays a secret," she repeated, realizing with the words that it was the only way that it could be.

With her magic, she bolted the door; the sound of the lock threw him into action. She'd barely lowered her hand and he had crossed the room, running to her and grabbing her neck in his hands; he kissed her forcefully, pent up emotion pouring into her, feeding her flames. Hungrily, she fed off of the life he breathed into her mouth with each desperate kiss.

He walked her backwards, undoing the buttons on the back of her dress as he guided her. Az smiled, glancing over her shoulder, too nervous to leave herself so completely in his hands. "You're not scared?" she asked him.

Jeb stopped, his hands fumbling on her buttons. "You're not gonna blast me again, are you?" he asked carefully, thinking back to the morning's excursion to the arboretum; he'd grabbed her from behind in surprise, and with a shriek, she'd hit him in the chest with her magic that had knocked the breath out of him. Needless to say, it had killed the mood.

Az smiled; she walked backwards by herself, managing to gracefully step up onto the platform in full reverse; her knees hit the edge of the mattress. "No, I'm not going to blast you again," she said. "And I told you, it was an accident." Her smile widened as he walked towards her once again, this time managing the buttons and pushing the dress down over her shoulders. His mouth attacked her neck, exploring but never marking.

Az raised an arm above her head and snapped her fingers. The lights went out.

Hours later, she slept peacefully in her bed; Jeb had returned to his position in the hallway so he wouldn't be missed. It was around midnight when Ambrose came walking up purposefully, a smile plastered from one corner of his face to the other.

"They're on their way home," he said excitedly. "I mean, on their way to Central City. I mean, DG and Cain. The princess and your father." Glitch clarified every sentence with a further explanation, until there was no doubt who he'd been talking about, not that Jeb would have taken the first statement as possibly meaning anything else.

Jeb's face broke into a tired smile. "News from Andrus?"

Glitch nodded. "Yeah. I don't know what went on out in those woods, but Andrus is hauling three prisoners to the Tower, and apparently DG knocked herself into a magical coma." Glitch stopped, tilting his head to the side. "Makes sense though, with what the furball said... now, what did the furball say again?"

"I'll wake Azkadellia," Jeb said, and as he turned towards the door, he winced, realizing he'd inadvertently used her given name, and not her title. Glitch, though, lost in thought, didn't notice the infraction. Instead, his bemused expression slipped into one of concern.

"No, don't wake her," he said softly. "She needs to sleep, and if you woke her now, she wouldn't sleep until DG was safe inside the palace."

Jeb turned back to the advisor. "How long until they're in the city?"

Glitch shook his head. "It'll be at least second sunrise, maybe longer. They were picked up by the transport vehicles Az sent a couple of hours ago. Transmissions are bad out on the road, they just got through to Communications. It's quite a bit of traveling still, though."

Jeb laughed quietly, remembering the hours spent after escaping the underground prison. "You don't have to tell me."


	37. Chapter Thirty Seven

**Author's Note**: Thank you to all my readers, reviewers, and subscribers.

* * *

**Of Light**

**Chapter Thirty Seven**

* * *

_- The Wilds of the West -_**  
**

* * *

Cain kept the mare at a steady canter, putting as much distance behind them as possible. The mare, maybe sensing that the journey was coming to a close, responded readily to Cain's commands. He was developing a soft spot for the beast underneath of him and was considering keeping her as his own; he was sure there would be a stable outside of Central City where he'd be able to rent out lodging and care for her.

This was how his mind had begun to wander with the promise of safety and home. Other things crossed his mind, as the unconscious girl in his arms leaned against him, her soft breathing warm against his neck. Any thoughts concerning his princess, however, he pushed away quickly. The helpless girl he'd held, though the same person, did not compare to the raging tempest that had battled beside him, and yes, he was even man enough to admit she'd saved his life... more than once now.

So he stuck to thinking about the horse, keeping his eyes peeled for signs of the army. Or Longcoats, though Andrus had said the way was clear.

It had been easy to find the way back to the road in the failing light, but he had to slow his mount down to a walk after the second sun had sunk down behind the mountains. Travel became slow, though the mare did not seem to mind; she walked forward with stubborn purpose, somehow sensing the direction of home.

Cain estimated more than three hours passing before he finally met up with the military escort the general had mentioned. Two army transport trucks sat parked where the road Cain traveled intersected with a larger thoroughfare. The headlamps were ablaze, cutting through the now-full darkness and illuminating the direction from which he came. With those lights he saw them long before they saw him, so he tugged on the reins for the mare to stop.

"DG," he muttered, giving her a bit of a shake. A low growl emitted from her throat.

"Sleeping," she mumbled, almost incoherently.

"No, you gotta wake up and make a bit of an appearance, darlin'," he said as gently as he could.

Her eyes flew open at that, and she pushed against him, realizing she'd been cradled against his chest like a child; if it weren't for his arm securely around her waist, she might have overbalanced and fallen right to the ground. "How long was I out?" she asked him. Looking down at her, he could tell she was struggling to keep her grip on consciousness; even the pommel pressing into her tailbone didn't seem enough to keep her awake.

"Couple hours. There's an army escort," he said. DG tried to sit up a little straighter, and her eyes focused on the blazing lights of the trucks in the distance. A grin spread across her face, happy but lazy.

"We made it."

Cain couldn't help but chuckle. "We aren't in Central City yet, Deege."

She made a disbelieving 'pfft', her teeth sinking into her deliciously pale bottom lip. "Close enough, Tin Man," she said. Supporting herself with an arm around his neck, she placed her opposite hand on his jaw, tipping his head towards hers. The kiss she placed on his lips, a mere brush, was soft and wholly restrained. She trembled in his arms, her every movement weak; she was still drained from their final encounter with the Commander's forces, and it showed in everything she did. Or, perhaps, he was more attuned to her than he should be...

"Don't you dare leave me," she muttered as she pulled away. "Stay with me until we get home."

Cain was surprised. Did she think that he would just hand her over to her mother's soldiers, and be on his way? _Never, _he wanted to assure her, but he didn't know what words would reach through the mire of exhaustion that surrounded her. So, instead of speaking, he leaned into her to kiss her again, pulling her closer into the shelter of his arms. His mouth worked against hers with shameless abandon; the kiss deepened quickly and she moaned into his mouth, the sweet, familiar touch of her tongue sweeping against his. When he pulled away, her grin was back and she certainly looked more aware.

"What was that for?" she asked, her blue eyes searching his, the smile on her face almost skipping with glee.

"Gonna be a while before I can do that again," was all he told her. The happiness in her face collapsed, leaving her completely awake in the truth and reality of his words. He handed her the reins, making sure she had herself balanced properly before swinging his leg over the back of the horse and climbing down out of the saddle. He helped her settle herself down, readjusted the stirrups for her legs, before taking the reins away from her once again.

Cain gently guided the horse forwards into the light cast by the two vehicles. It did not take long for the soldiers to notice the pair as they approached.

"Stop!" someone called out.

"I am a friend," Cain returned by way of a greeting. The damn lights were near blinding. He held his hands up at chest level, not letting go of the reins he held.

Two men walked forward, rifles raised and aimed directly at him. "State your business, traveler," one of the men shouted hoarsely.

"I have someone here that requires deliverin' to Central City."

"I'm not a package," DG said indignantly from behind him. Cain did his best to ignore her, keeping his focus on the two men with rifles aimed at his chest.

One of the men, the one that hadn't spoken, lowered the barrel of his firearm ever so slightly. "Captain Cain?" Before he could respond, the man gave a jubilant shout. "It's the princess!"

The two men rushed forward, one taking the reins from Cain and grabbing the mare by the bridle. The second, whom Cain was surprised to see was Pvt. Burrows, reached out to shake Cain's hand; Cain took only a moment with the gesture before turning to help DG out of the saddle he'd just helped her into. When her feet hit the ground, her knees immediately buckled, and she fell against Cain. He caught her easily, and smirked down at her as she smiled apologetically up at him.

"Your Highness," Burrows said respectfully, bowing his head. DG waved him off. "What happened?" Burrows asked, directing his question more to the captain than to the princess.

"Had a run in with a group of the Commander's soldiers," Cain said shortly. DG was going to need help walking. "I'm not sayin' anymore until the debriefing. She's gonna need somewhere to lay down."

Burrows thought for a moment. "Best we're going to be able to do is make a bed in the back of one of the trucks. In the flatbed, though, mind you."

DG's gaze narrowed at the private. "I've been on a horse for almost two days. The flatbed is _fine_." She drew out the last word until it slipped away on a breath.

Ten minutes later, Cain was helping DG into the canvas covered flatbed of the transport truck. She crawled in gratefully, thanking the soldiers with thin mumbles; she collapsed onto the blanket Cain had extracted from the saddle bag for her. Whether she fell asleep right away or not, he wasn't sure.

A young corporal was trying to grab his attention. "Sir, we weren't expecting you to have a horse," the young man said.

Cain looked around; the soldiers were getting ready to leave. In all, there were six soldiers, and two drivers for the trucks. He sighed. It had already been brought to his attention that his rank as captain put all eight men underneath of him. "Put your best rider on her. Where is the nearest settlement?"

"I think Loamwarren, sir."

"Have him ride there, then. One of the stables will surely put up one of her Majesty's beasts." Cain's eyebrows lifted. The corporal nodded his understanding; the good old fashioned little white lie.

Cain considered asking the young soldier if there was any news, but knew that he'd only hear what he'd heard from Andrus on the ridge; Azkadellia and the Queen had been found in the early hours of Friday morning, and his son was now safe at the palace. That was all he really needed to know until they got to the city.

"Let's go, men!" Cain called out, wanting to get moving as fast as possible. He looked directly at the two drivers. "We stop for nothin' and no one, you hear me?" The drivers nodded, unruffled, used to such orders.

He climbed up onto the flatbed and lowered the canvas flap; he secured into place with two ties, and then crawled to sit with his back against the wooden box of the flatbed. DG lay beside him, and when he looked down at her, he was surprised to see those wide, blue eyes staring back at him.

"Why're you still awake?" he asked her gently. "I figured you to be passed out cold by now."

DG rolled her eyes. "It's kinda hard to relax." The truck grumbled to life and lurched forward, finding a steady pace quickly, bouncing and jostling over the uneven road.

"Get some sleep, DG. There'll be plenty to do once we get to Central City."

DG blinked slowly; though he was sure she didn't mean the gesture seductively, the flutter of her eyelashes shot straight through him. "How long until we get there?" She snuggled closer to his leg, resting her head upon his thigh. Her arm reached over so her fingertips brushed over his other thigh, tracing shapes and patterns and words. Cain leaned back his head, closing his eyes.

"At least eight hours, DG. Maybe ten, dependin' on the road and the driver."

He heard her sigh contentedly as she nuzzled her face into his leg. They were in next to complete darkness, in the second vehicle that followed the first, only the faint glow of the rear lights, non-invasive. Her swirling fingertips made their way closer to his groin; a low growl emitted from the Tin Man as he put his hand firmly on her wrist. "Go to sleep, Princess," he told her.

"Are you saying you don't wanna –"

He cut her off before she could finish her sentence; he might not be able to stop himself if he let her continue to speak. "That's exactly what I'm sayin', DG. Soon enough we're gonna be completely alone, but for now... let's just take it easy."

DG snickered. "That sounds like another promise, Tin Man."

"It's not all I wanna be givin' you, darlin', but a little restraint never hurt anybody." Cain looked down at her; though he could no longer see her face without the illumination of the headlights, he could hear a grin in her voice, and knew that her eyes danced despite how tired she was. He placed his hand on top of her head, pulling his fingers through the hair at her temples.

"G'night," she mumbled after a few minutes. His stroking fingers had managed to do their work; soon she grew tired, and fell asleep. How she'd managed to wake up so much at all was beyond him, considering the drain she'd experienced. Her hand slipped away from his leg, her arm laying heavily across him.

"Goodnight, Princess," he whispered.

* * *

_- Alta Torretta, Heart of the Shining City - _

* * *

Somewhere above his head, the suns were rising. But here, underground, nothing natural seemed to permeate the cold space. Cement pillars had lights wired to them, it was unbelievably bright; a distant sound echoed, tinny and repetitive. And it smelled of motor oil, though the garage was exquisitely clean.

Glitch heaved a mighty sigh. He was sitting on the hood of an outdated Model-A convertible, one of the vehicles in the royal collection; it was one of the few that hadn't been worked on or tuned since the abandoning of the royal palace in Central City, and he was pretty sure there'd be an imprint of his rear-end in the dust when he got up.

His feet rested on the front bumper, and he was hunched over, elbows resting on his knees.

"Are they here yet?"

Raw looked up from his perch near the mechanics lockers. He'd found a stool to sit on when he'd come down silently after Glitch to sit and wait with his friend in complete quiet.

The Viewer shook his head. "No. Like ten minutes ago, no. Like hour, no," the Viewer grumbled, out of character. The stark place made him nervous, and like Glitch he was utterly tired from staying up all night waiting.

"What could be keeping them?" Glitch wondered aloud.

"Raw not sense danger," was the only thing his companion would give him in response.

Glitch pulled his timepiece out of his pocket; he flipped the cover open and looked down at the dial. It was almost six; exactly a week ago, he'd been standing in the grand foyer at Finaqua, watching as Cain led the Queen and Azkadellia on their disastrous mission into the woods. He'd stood with DG, and the two had watched together as their friends and their family rode off.

After they'd been captured, DG had forgone protocol and duty and even common sense, had run off headlong into the forest after the Tin Man and her sister. Forget politics, forget safety... all she could think about was saving those who needed her, selflessly.

What had he done? He'd been too preoccupied to notice the wheels in her head turning; he should have noticed, he was always the one who did... but too late.

"We should've gone with her," said Glitch sadly, voicing the thoughts for the first time, though this was not the first, second, or tenth time they'd made the rotation through his brain. The Viewer, nodding his head, only gave a gruff 'mmhmm' of affirmation.

Silence. And then... "Next time," Raw said softly, his low voice rumbling. "Next time Raw go with DG."

Glitch raised an eyebrow. "What makes you think there's gonna be a next time?"

Raw looked skeptically at his friend. Glitch only smirked, then laughed outright. "Of course there's gonna be a next time. We inherited ourselves a genuine troublemaker."

"Tin Man attract trouble as much as princess."

Glitch snorted. "Ain't that the truth."

The two friends sat in increasingly uncomfortable silence. Glitch got up to pace the garage, watching the ramp that led upwards to the courtyard. They were only one level below ground, but it made him nervous. He thought back to the reports of the complex where his friends had been kept – very soon he'd be going to see it with his own eyes, another distraction from the task of dismantling the Tower.

Suddenly, out of the corner of his eye he saw Raw straighten, then leap up from his seat. Glitch looked at him curiously before he heard it; the sound of vehicles coming down from the courtyard. He barely took time to register that a third person was now walking down into the garage.

"Healer," Raw said to the stranger that approached.

Glitch rolled his eyes, turning on the person that was distracting him from bouncing on his toes waiting for his friends. "He's not a healer, Raw. He's just the court physician." Then, as Ambrose remembered himself, he gave a sheepish grin. "Professor," he said with a sharp nod of his head. "What brings you here?"

"I am here to make sure the princess is escorted up to the infirmary. The Queen and her consort will be meeting her there. I received notification from the guards at the entrance to the city that the princess's transport has arrived."

Glitch snorted, ignoring the good doctor's disdainful mention of Ahamo. "Well, get in line, 'cause I'm first."

Raw chuckled softly. "Will have to wake princess. Sleeps sound, peaceful."

The first of the trucks came around the corner of the ramp and descended into the garage proper. The sound of the tires on the cement floor was almost deafening, the roar of the motor bouncing and echoing, the stench of exhaust surrounding the three men that stood in wait. A second truck followed the first; the two transports parked in empty loading zones near the end of the long room, towards the back wall and the elevator.

The engines were cut. The sounds of doors opening filled the air, the clank and crash of it making the advisor a little jumpy. Three soldiers stumbled out of the flatbed box of the first truck, one stepping forward to starting to unfasten the lashes that held the canvas of the second truck in place.

Cain exited first, his blonde hair catching the harsh light. He was filthy and bloody, sporting a bruise on the left side of his jaw that was the most interesting shade of purple. He wore the same unfamiliar uniform that the soldiers brought in with her Majesty and Azkadellia had been wearing, but on his shoulders was the jacket of his service uniform.

Glitch couldn't stop the laughter that erupted from him. "Sweet Ozma, Cain, what'd DG do to you?"

Cain turned on the man with an unimpressed line set upon his lips. "Can't you let me have two minutes before you start blabbin'?"

The Viewer chuckled, and the court physician looked at the advisor, a bit confused.

"Excuse me, Captain, but where is the princess?"

But Cain had already turned back to the truck, and was helping a very groggy and an equally disheveled looking DG from the flatbed. His hands caught her at the waist and he lifted her down to the ground, as her wobbly legs looked, even to Glitch, that they might tangle trying to extract herself from the vehicle.

On the ground, she gave a weak smile to her friends; she held out her arms for them to come to her. Without hesitation, Glitch, and then Raw, went to her and wrapped her in fierce embraces. She made to turn to the third person, but balked at realizing him a stranger; she stepped instinctively towards Cain.

"Who're you?" she asked blearily.

The physician gave a bow of his head towards her. "Forgive me, my lady. I am Professor Lyman, personal physician to the royal family."

DG nodded acceptingly, but Cain looked over to Glitch.

"Who did his background check?" he asked.

Glitch shook his head. "Didn't need one."

"Why the hell not?" Cain demanded, raising a scarred eyebrow in the direction of the newcomer.

"He was under her Majesty's employment before the takeover," Glitch – Ambrose – said in a firm manner. "Actually, he attended the Queen twice in her childbed."

Cain, unhappy, frowned, but didn't contest the advisor any further. Dealing with the headcase had been easy enough, minus the constant annoyance, but the stuffiness of the advisor threw him off. Cain decided then to make sure checks were done on the entire staff of the palace. Former loyalty was a very shady thing to place trust in.

"I've been instructed by her Majesty to escort the princess and her guard up to the medical level," Professor Lyman said smoothly.

"We'll go with you," Glitch said excitedly. "I'm in the mood for a good bedtime story."

DG frowned at her friend. "But don't you have work to do today?"

Glitch's face fell. "Oh... well... I still love a good story. Tell me on the way up."

With Professor Lyman leading the way, the group made for the elevator. Glitch, strangely observant, noticed Cain helping the exhausted princess maneuver on her feet; his arm was around her waist, his fingers gripping the flesh at her side protectively. Glitch fell back a step to walk behind the pair, slowing enough to fall even with Raw, who'd been last.

Glitch gave a purposeful nod towards the Tin Man.

Raw shook his head. "Not new; always there."

"Yeah, but –" Glitch began, but a rough voice cut into his statement.

"You comin', Zipperhead?"


	38. Chapter Thirty Eight

**Author's Note**: Thank you to all my readers, reviewers, and subscribers.

* * *

**Of Light**

**Chapter Thirty Eight**

* * *

_- Alta Torretta, Heart of the Shining City -_ **  
**

* * *

By the time the elevator had reached the twentieth level, DG was losing consciousness again. "Something's wrong," she kept muttering; she was leaning heavily on Cain's arm and it was all he could do not to gather her up and lift her off her feet, hold her close and whisper that it was all right to let go.

The headcase was studying him too closely; the Viewer stood off to the side, watching the princess, concerned. He'd offered her assistance to help her calm back toward sleep, but she'd declined. The court physician, Professor Lyman, was staring at the doors of the lift, completely uninvolved in the stillness, silence, and unspoken words that passed between the four friends.

The infirmary was relatively small, but served its purpose with the usual grandeur Cain had come to expect from the royal family's residences. There was a long corridor, many doors leading to many rooms, and the professor led DG into one of the first; it was decorated in deep blues and the furniture was sparse and lightly colored.

When she sat down on the bed, DG immediately fell over, her legs hanging off the edge of the mattress. Cain walked past the bed to look out the window; the reflective glass mirrored back what looked into it, but the view out was unimpeded, crystal clear. She wouldn't have to worry about anything here, he knew... at last, they were safe, _she_ was safe.

_For now_, a voice in the back of his head chided him. _She said it's not over._

Once more, he crossed the room, to stand at the door. Facing DG, he leaned against the wall, and watched the scene unfold, unnoticed as the others fell all over themselves for the princess. The professor exited the room, muttering something about going to meet Ahamo and the Queen at the elevator. Glancing out into the hallway, Cain realized he didn't see another single person.

He watched as Glitch lifted DG's legs up onto the bed. The advisor looked curiously at DG's dirty bare feet.

"Uh, Cain? Why isn't she wear–"

"Don't ask," Cain grumbled. "Let her tell you, 'cause I still don't understand it."

He saw the corner of DG's mouth twitch. Her eyes were closed and her body was completely still, breathing even and deep. She was not sleeping, however. She'd swallowed her smile at his exasperation with her, but not before he'd seen it.

"Parents' coming. Want to see," Raw said, nodding his head towards the 'sleeping' young woman on the bed.

A few minutes later, murmuring voices in the hallway prompted the three to leave DG alone. They had settled themselves a little way down the hallway to sit in waiting chairs, and Cain had resumed his standing-rest position outside her door when the professor and royal couple reached them.

With barely a glance at the two men and the Viewer, the Queen rushed into the room where her daughter lay. DG opened her eyes for her mother, and the two began to talk hurriedly. Professor Lyman followed, but Ahamo stopped in front of Cain.

"I'd like to see you in my study in an hour, Captain Cain," the consort said firmly, but appreciation was written all over the man's face.

Cain nodded. "Of course."

The consort gave him one more weak smile, before going into the room with his wife and daughter; he closed the door firmly behind him. It was only a few seconds more before Cain realized that his friends were watching him carefully.

"What?" he asked, too tired to play games with an ex-headcase.

"You're not going to tell us what happened?" Glitch asked, his eyes sparkling with excitement.

Cain raised an eyebrow. "Not now. As soon as this meeting with Ahamo is over, I'll be headin' to the barracks for a debriefing, then back home to get some sleep."

Glitch, however, shook his head. He stood, stretching his lanky frame. "I _meant_," he said conspiratorially, "if you're gonna tell us what you're _not_ going to say at the debriefing."

Cain exhaled loudly, unimpressed with the advisor's newly found awareness. One look at the furball told him that the inkling Glitch might have was nothing compared to what the Viewer _knew_.

"There isn't anything to be discussed," Cain said seriously, glaring disapprovingly at his friends. "Neither of you can say you didn't see this comin'."

Glitch grinned. "Oh, I _definitely_ saw this coming. I just didn't know _you_ did."

Cain was in no mood to argue or defend himself, not now that they were back in Central City; they were friends, yes, and heroes, but he was still a Tin Man and she was a princess. Sneaking around wasn't something he fancied doing, either.

"Do you know where I can find Jeb?" Cain asked Glitch, his tone even and firm. End of previous discussion, let's move on.

Surprisingly, the topic change was accepted. "He'll be standing guard outside of Azkadellia's room. On the thirtieth floor. Take the left passage when you get out of the elevator. Or is it the right passage?"

Cain shook his head with a growl. "I'll find it myself, thanks." Pushing himself away from the wall, he noticed Raw watching him with a strange, calculating look on his face. Cain was about ready to bare some teeth when Raw spoke cryptically.

"Mystic Man give Cain great gift."

Cain shook his head slightly, not sure he'd heard his Viewer friend right. "Beg pardon?" he managed in his bewilderment.

Raw nodded slowly. "Cain give word to Mystic Man. In return, Mystic Man give Cain back his heart."

As sleep deprived as he was, as stiff and sore as his body was from the days of constant riding and then the long trip by truck to the city, and as much as he had on his mind, Cain stopped moving and stared at the Viewer who watched him, his blue eyes piercing the distance between. Raw's gaze was soft, comforting, and not at all condescending. He saw what beat inside of Cain's chest, and who it beat for.

Raw gave Cain a slow smile, a nod, before settling back in his chair, indicating he wouldn't say anymore on the subject, of which Cain found himself eternally grateful. He said no goodbye, only walked away from his friends, and from behind him, he could hear Glitch badgering Raw.

"What does that mean?"

The palace seemed to be just waking up as the elevator door slid open. Though on the medical level there had been no one, there were several maids and stewards bustling about on the thirtieth level. Cain decided to go with Ambrose's first instruction, and headed left. He was not disappointed. He could make out the voices of Azkadellia and his son in heated discussion before they rounded a corner. Cain stopped walking; as the two rounded the bend, it took them a moment to notice him.

"You were supposed to wake me if there was news!" Azkadellia berated. She didn't sound at all pleased, sounded disappointed and surprised that she hadn't been listened to, something she managed to pull off much better than her sister.

"Ambrose told me not to wake you," Jeb said. "And they only just arrived. So let's just hurry before – Father!"

Cain tried to suppress a smile as he found himself face to face with his son, looking well groomed and rested. Watching his manners, Cain bowed to Azkadellia first.

"Captain Cain!" she exclaimed happily. Cain was of half a mind to brace himself for a tackling embrace, but Az seemed to have much more restraint than her younger sister. "I'm so glad you're all right."

"Thank you, your Highness," Cain said. "Your sister is down in the infirmary with her Majesty now." Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his son smirking at his rigid politeness towards the princess.

"I'll go now," she said, trying to mask her elation, but the smile stretched across her face, impossible to suppress. Az, as it turned out, had a beautiful smile. When Jeb made to follow her, giving his father an apologetic grin, Az held up her hand.

"I'm perfectly capable of escorting myself downstairs," she said firmly. "Stay here with your father. I doubt I'll be leaving the infirmary this morning, so you can find me when you're done." She excused herself, and hurried away towards the elevator. When she was gone, Jeb turned towards his father.

"You look like hell."

Cain smirked. "Thanks."

"What happened? Ambrose said you'd been attacked. How is DG?"

Cain sighed again. "DG is fine, just drained and exhausted. A lot has happened in two days, and I'd like to get to the barracks so I can make my report. Before that I've got a meeting with the consort, and then I want to sleep for a few days. _Then,_ I will gladly answer your questions."

Jeb nodded slowly. "Reports coming back from the mountains say that all the Longcoats seem to have disappeared."

Cain considered this for a moment. News coming in before he'd left Finaqua had stated the entire northwest was teeming with Longcoats taking refuge in the mountains. He and DG had only come across a single, small party. Something didn't seem right. "What about in the city?" Cain asked.

"Spies are coming up with nothing. Seems they left the city sometime in the last couple of days, and no one saw them go. But most of the army was in the woods looking for the royal family, so patrols in the city have been stretched pretty thin." Jeb didn't sound at all happy about this.

Cain sighed. "And how long are you plannin' on guarding Azkadellia?"

Jeb shrugged his shoulders, looking away. "Not too much longer. I want to get back out there; the Longcoats are still out there somewhere, and we'll find them."

Cain nodded slowly. "Listen, I'm gonna be headin' south for a couple of days."

Jeb looked at his father, confused. "But you just got back... _just_ got back. You're still covered in... is that blood?"

Cain rolled his eyes. "I'll see you when I get back. Keep an eye on DG, and do _not_ let her leave the palace."

Jeb smirked. "DG will be lucky if the Queen lets her leave the infirmary before next week." When his father shot him a glare, he cleared his throat and nodded. "I'll make sure she doesn't go anywhere. Just hurry though, 'cause if she gets it in her mind to go after you, there'll be no stopping her."

Cain looked uncomfortably at the ground; that much, he knew to be true. Seeing his father's agitation, Jeb continued carefully. "When we left Finaqua, I got the feeling the person she was running off to save wasn't her sister." When Cain didn't respond, only looked past Jeb and not at him, the younger Cain dug into his pocket and handed his father a key.

"My room is at the back of this floor." He turned around and pointed in the direction he'd come from. "Follow this passage, take the first left, and follow that corridor until the end. Sixth door on the right."

Cain grimaced at his son. "Gettin' used to civilized life?" he asked.

It was Jeb's turn to roll his eyes. "Don't worry about bothering anyone. It's still a little short-staffed around here so there aren't many others staying on this floor. And now I gotta go." Jeb gave his father a pat on the arm, not willing to hug the dirty and bloodied man.

Cain watched his son walk away, glad for the opportunity to see him before he headed south again. Following Jeb's instructions, Cain was able to find his son's small suite. In the adjoining bath, he stripped off his shirt, and washed his face, arms and chest. With every ring of the washcloth, the water draining away became clearer, until a bit of himself began to show once again in the mirror. When all of the dust and spattered blood had been washed away, Cain put his dirty shirt back on, and went to find the consort's study. With the help of a friendly old steward, he found his way with little trouble.

Cain was sitting on a marvelously uncomfortable settee parked in the hallway outside the study when Ahamo finally appeared. He looked a great deal more relieved than he had downstairs; Cain assumed it was the sight of his daughter, and the feeling of having his family back together again that had lifted the man's spirits.

"Ah, Captain," Ahamo said, as he opened the study door. Cain followed him in.

His first reaction was that it reminded him too closely of the meeting with the Queen the night of his arrival in Finaqua. The early morning light that filtered in through the window was clouded with dust particles; most of the furniture was still covered with gray drop cloths, and the air had a definite 'moving in' feel to it, bare shelves and surfaces screaming to be filled.

Ahamo was distracted; Cain cleared his throat, wanting to get this over as soon as possible. Ahamo looked up from his rummaging.

"Was there something specific you wanted to see me for, sir?" Cain prompted.

"Oh," Ahamo said. "Um, yes, there was. Firstly, to thank you what you did for my family. I owe you and the other men a great deal of gratitude, you most of all for keeping DG safe while she completed her sister's task."

Ahamo paused; Cain waited patiently. After a few moments, Ahamo continued. "DG, it seems, has a knack for getting herself into trouble. She's too headstrong, she's ready to fight too easily. It is going to take some conditioning to get her used to her new role as Princess of the Realm."

Cain nodded, the corner of his mouth twitching. The man was stating these facts as if he'd just discovered them; Cain had known this the first good look he'd taken at DG, after the haze of being released from the iron suit had lifted. The girl with flashing blue eyes, a quick tongue, even quicker compulsion to act. His eyes had been closed when she'd run into the time-loop projection of his torment, but from what Glitch had told him, she'd run straight for the image of the Longcoat holding his son. She'd tried to save his _son._

Ahamo was still speaking; Cain turned his attention back to the man. "From what Master Ambrose has told me, you worked for the Mystic Man for a time, is that correct?"

Cain nodded. "Yes, sir. I spent three years protecting him, until my wife convinced me it was time to take our child out of Central City."

Ahamo moved to the window, looking out. "No, this isn't the place you'd want to raise a child, is it?" Cain wasn't sure if he was expected to answer, so he remained silent. "I've been well informed of your unfortunate circumstances, Captain. My wife has also told me of all the work you've done since the Eclipse. Taking into consideration recent events, we thought we'd offer you a more... _relaxing_ position."

Cain raised an eyebrow. "Sir?"

"DG is going to need a private bodyguard."

So that was it. Cain felt like someone had knocked the air out of his chest, though he found he had no trouble breathing. He was being offered the chance to stay with her. To be with her every day, from the moment she woke up until the moment she fell asleep. To have reason to be closed in private chambers with her, without the arousal of suspicion... and the man offering him this was her _father_, who had no clue of what had happened between the princess and the Tin Man that stood before him. Cain almost felt sorry for the man in that moment.

He sighed deeply, forcing the words out of his mouth. "I'm sorry, sir," he said, looking the man straight in the eye. "I'm gonna have to turn down the offer."

Ahamo's eyebrows shot up, his head cocking to the side slightly. He hadn't been expecting refusal. "Can you tell me why, Captain?"

"My plans are to help my son with huntin' down the remaining Longcoats," Cain said slowly. "There's a lot of work to be done yet settin' this country right. I wouldn't be doin' any good inside the palace with DG."

"Your son works as personal guard to the Crown Princess."

Cain offered the consort a small smile. "All due respect, sir, I know my son. He'll be lookin' for a change soon enough. City life never did suit either of us well." But even as the words were out of his mouth, Cain had to question himself... _did_ he know his son? In his mind, nothing would have convinced Jeb to take the position of guarding Azkadellia in the first place.

"What are your plans then, Captain?"

"Headin' out to make my report, then hopefully home to sleep. I've got a couple of days leave lined up, I want to head south and see some things with my own eyes."

Ahamo nodded, understanding. "Well then, Captain, I'll see you down the road. You are dismissed."

Cain left the consort behind without another word, and made his way up to Jeb's room. Rummaging through Jeb's small desk, he'd managed to find paper and a pencil. Without sitting, he scribbled a brief note to DG; yes, he would be leaving without saying goodbye to her, but he'd leave her word that he'd be returning. He did not want to incense her enough to come after him, which his practical mind said was a strong possibility.

On the medical level, Jeb stood outside the door as he himself had done. Raw was nowhere to be seen, and Glitch was still sitting in his chair. The advisor leaped to his feet when he saw Cain approaching.

"Give this to DG when she wakes up," Cain told him firmly, holding the folded piece of paper between two fingers. Glitch made to take it, but Cain yanked it back out of his reach. "And _do not_ let her leave the palace, or I will shoot you in the foot and you can kiss your rhythm goodbye."

Glitch's eyes widened at the threat. "Um, okay, Cain."

"I'll see you in a few days," Cain said, softening and handing over the note. "And make sure to warn whoever they assign to her."

Glitch grinned. "Will do."

It was near noon by the time Cain made it back to his small apartment in the Bellicose District. The debriefing had taken hours, mostly because the committee he had spoken to demanded he not leave until they'd contacted Andrus to verify what he'd told them. Luckily, Andrus had made it to the Tower with the prisoners, and had been easily reached.

When he entered the apartment, the shades were drawn against the sun. Cain locked the door, bolted it. He moved into the tiny bedroom and placed the gun he'd lifted from the weapon's locker during his escape three days ago onto the nightstand. He shed his dirty clothes, leaving them in a pile on the floor, and naked, crawled under the covers and fell into a deep sleep.

When he awoke, it was full dark outside. Someone was knocking on the door.

Muttering to himself, he managed to extract a pair of pants from his drawer; in the back of his mind, it registered how nice it was to be back in his own clothes. The knocking continued, louder and faster. He took the gun into his hand, and crossed the apartment. He was cursing by the time he wrenched open the door.

"What?" he barked... and immediately backed down. "What are you doing here, old man?"

Jowan stood on the other side of the door, holding a canvas sack. He offered Cain a sly grin. Pushing past Cain, he walked straight into the apartment, and tossed the bag down on the table.

"I brought you a present, Captain," the caretaker said as he settled himself down in one of the straight-backed wooden chairs that accompanied the table.

"You have three seconds to answer me before I –"

Jowan shook his head. "You aren't going to do anything of the sort, boy, so put the gun away. Haven't I proved myself loyal to your cause yet?"

Cain raised his eyebrow. "Loyal to _my_ cause?"

"Protecting the royal family," Jowan said shortly. "I spent a great deal of time and effort securing the trust of you and your men. Do you know how hard it was covering up the guard you knocked unconscious when you tried your first foolish escape attempt?" Cain didn't know quite what to say, but the old man didn't wait for him to respond. "I put my life and the lives of my family on the line to help you rescue the royals. Is that not loyalty?"

"That still doesn't explain what you're doin' here."

Jowan sighed. "It seems I have picked up an old habit."

Cain's lips settled into a thin, disbelieving line. "Really? And what would that be?"

Jowan shook his head, sighing. "I am not at liberty to tell you at this time, but rest assured, I will."

"Oh no, you're not gettin' off that easily."

The old caretaker chuckled. "You haven't looked at your present yet."

With a grumble, Cain untied the canvas sack with one hand, the other still holding his gun. When he peeked inside the bag, however, he let loose a long, low laugh. "You're somethin' else, old man, I'll give you that much."

Inside the canvas sack sat his gunbelt, with his revolver secured inside the holster; on top of that was his hat. Items he hadn't seen since waking up on the floor of the complex a week before.

"Thought you might be wanting those personal effects back."

Cain removed the hat from the bag, and turned the brim in his hands. Thoughts of Adora burst into his head, and then of DG and her random exclamation as they'd stood, kissing, at the Ellstons' water pump. _"I miss your hat,"_ she had said.

"Where do you stand, old man?" he asked Jowan as the caretaker stood and walked towards the door.

"Not as far on his side of the line as the Commander thinks," Jowan said. "Perhaps not even on his side of the line at all. Goodnight, Captain." And with that he left, closing the door softly behind him.

Cain stood, staring at the door, dumbstruck. He put the hat back down on the table, and moved to lift the shades. The street below was bustling with activity, with comings and goings, with shouts and calls and laughter.

Cain exhaled heavily before moving away from the window. He'd slept long enough, it was time to get back on the road.


	39. Chapter Thirty Nine

**Author's Note**: Thank you to all my readers, reviewers, and subscribers.**  
**

* * *

**Of Light  
**

**Chapter Thirty Nine**

* * *

_- Alta Torretta, Heart of the Shining City -**  
**_

* * *

_She was alone in the Central City palace; she realized it made her unhappy to be there. She found that of all the homes she knew, this one she liked the least._

_Her feet began to walk a path that her heart seemed to know but her head didn't. What compulsion drove her, she didn't know. She only knew that she must climb; Alta Torretta, the highest tower._

_When she reached the rooftop, the doors magically slid open to reveal the arboretum; her heart cried out in pain at the sight of the dead trees, skeletal branches tangled high above her head. _

_She sensed him before she saw him, able to turn to him as he stepped out of the darkness. He walked with her, as she was still walking. A brick path led under the tunnel of trees, the twin moons shining in from above the glass dome, illuminating the way. _

"_Remember, Doll," he said. The zipper cutting through his crown gaped open. His hair was fantastically wild. "I got us lost, but then we found him." He slowed, fell back and away. She walked forward... somewhere in the haze, the twinkling glass dome became cloudy dark sky; the bricks beneath her feet became the worn paths of the Papay fields._

_The wind picked up, the dead branches scraping, calling._

_Her second companion fell into step beside her, materializing from the darkness, steps timid and careful, so light he made no sound. "DG must think. Must feel. Must live."_

_When she turned to him, he stopped moving; her feet carried her forward as the path began to wind. He watched her curiously as she left him behind._

_The sound of swift paws padding the ground began to follow her. She looked down to see him watching her with beady eyes. His head cocked to one side and he barked; once, twice... with a whimper, he looked in the direction she walked, but did not follow._

_It called to her like a beacon, the life in the middle of the field of death. The tree... her tree. It glowed for her. _

_He was standing underneath, leaning against the trunk. His stance was casual, but she knew it was not as it seemed. He'd drawn his duster back, and his hand rested easily on his holster; under the brim of the hat, she knew alert, cool eyes watched, knew then that he'd already seen her. He waited for her._

"_Stay sharp, darlin'. We're being watched."_

"_Runners?" Her voice was fearful. She looked around, but heard nothing. Everything was heartbreakingly silent; even the wind and the creaking of the trees had died away._

"_No. Dark eyes," he said, and lifted his head to look at her; his familiar smirk put her at ease. "Can't say from where just yet. I'll keep an eye out, you just figure out what we're supposed to do."_

"_I don't think I can," she whispered._

"_Oh, you will. We can just walk the Old Road. It always finds you, eventually."_

She woke then, because someone was talking out loud. She peeked one eye open when she realized she recognized the voice, but she saw no one in the direction she faced. Opening both eyes, she lifted up on her elbows. Immediately, the speaker stopped mid-sentence, and she found herself being stared at by two very curious pairs of eyes.

"Finally," said the person who'd been speaking – Glitch. She'd never been so happy to see his pale face, and her own broke into a grin at the sight of him. "We thought you were gonna sleep another day away."

Raw shook his head disapprovingly at his companion. "Needed sleep. DG fight great battle."

"I just had the weirdest dream," she muttered, her head tipping to the side, eyes lifting to the ceiling. "I was... here, and then in the Papay fields. And... you were there." She nodded at Glitch, and then toward Raw. "And you. And –" She looked to the doorway, the last place she'd seen Cain; her eyes popped to see that he wasn't there, wasn't anywhere. Her gaze, now fierce, shot back towards Glitch.

"Where is he?"

Glitch grimaced under the ferocity of her glare; for a fraction of a second, he thought he might have seen her eyes spark. "I don't know!" he exclaimed; she knew he'd been expecting her to ask.

Raw cut in before she could speak. "Cain go on search for answers. Will return home soon. His heart in Central City."

DG deflated a little; she pushed herself fully sitting, she looked around. She _vaguely_ remembered waking long enough to walk herself up here, but it was too cloudy to make out much... someone's arm securely around her... a tearful embrace from her mother... and a glimpse of white light?

"He left this for you," Glitch said hopefully, handing her a piece of stiff paper, folded over twice.

DG leaned over to snatch the paper from him. She glared at him again. "Did you read it?"

The advisor looked scandalized. "I would never!"

Raw spoke up, gruff. "Glitch does not lie to DG. Tempted, but he did not read."

Glitch frowned. "See?" he said, looking disheartened. "Fuzzy here knows. I was hoping maybe you might, I dunno, read it out loud." His tone lilted hopefully again.

DG unfolded the note, and turned away from her friends. She read it quickly, then heaved a sigh. His note was as stiff and formal as the paper it was written on. "I have things to take care of. Be back in a few days; W.C." She turned the paper over, but found nothing. _Well, that sucks_, she thought to herself. It made perfect sense, even to her brain that was still warming up, but still... she read it again. He told her why he'd gone, and that he would be back. That was important enough in and of itself, and she could probably take comfort in that... when the sting went away.

"Well," Glitch said, "that was cold and empty. Very Cain."

The corner of DG's mouth turned up a bit. "When did he leave?" she asked, looking over the paper at her friend.

"Last time I saw him was yesterday, right before he left for the city HQ. Reports and paperwork, I've got a copy of some of it on my desk right now."

DG's curious gaze intensified. "Yesterday? What day is it?"

"It's Monday."

"You let me sleep an _entire_ day?"

Glitch snorted. "_Let_ you? We all tried to wake you up to eat. Azkadee even used her magic to conjure up some pajamas for you, and you still didn't wake up."

DG looked down at herself; sure enough, she was dressed in a plain white t-shirt; she lifted the blanket to see matching pants of the same soft, gauzy material. That explained the white light in her hazy recollections of the night before... yesterday morning. _Very nice_, DG thought, pleased with her sister. Then it hit her. "Where is Az?" she asked.

"Fulfilling duty," Raw said softly. "Wants to be with sister; will return, Raw thinks."

DG fell back onto her pillows to pout. "So that's where Mother and Ahamo are? They're otherwise preoccupied?"

Glitch nodded sadly. "Your mother is at a meeting with her generals discussing the current Longcoat threats. Your father is presiding over trade negotiations between the Southern and Eastern guilds."

"He does stuff like that?"

Glitch shook his head. "No, not normally. Your mom is swamped, though, so he's doing his best to help out. He likes the ankle-biters, he thinks they're funny."

DG laughed at that, remembering all too well ferocious Munchkins dropping from trees. "And why aren't you working, too, Ambrose?" DG asked.

Her friend chuckled, and nodded toward a table on the opposite side of the room from where he sat with Raw. The table was stacked with books and papers and a few strange looking models crafted of metal and wood. "I get to bring my work with me," the advisor said, with a weak smile. "I'd just be sitting in my office doing it anyway."

She found herself smiling. Good old Glitch, he always managed to get her to smile. Still... already, she missed Cain, like an ache in her chest. She refused to cry, her head knowing, her heart disbelieving. She was angry at him for leaving, angrier than she knew she shouldn't be... but she couldn't help it. She knew it only hurt because he hadn't said goodbye, but the hurt was strong and fiery, and she couldn't swallow it away.

"You okay, DG?" Glitch asked.

DG shook her head, unwilling to speak of the way she felt to Glitch... or to anyone... she could get along just fine, she told herself. She had to talk to her mother about what she'd learned from the Gale, she needed to track down Tutor and have some things explained. As she stood, her head gave an almighty spin and she swayed. She sat down hard... oh yeah, she was going to need to eat.

"Hungry," she mumbled. "Let's go down to the kitchen."

Glitch's eyebrows shot up in surprise, and she sent him another unappreciative glower. "DG," he said slowly, "this isn't like Finaqua. You can't just march into the kitchen."

"Why not?" she demanded. She wondered if she could manage to fall asleep again, because being awake was beginning to piss her off.

"Well, for _one_, you're a princess and this palace is your mother's most influential seat of power, you're not gonna be able to run around in your bare feet." DG glared at her friend, a bit of her arrival coming back to her... Cain's amusement with her footwear situation. "And, _two,"_ Glitch continued, "they are insanely busy downstairs, you'd just be in the way."

"I hate it here," she grumbled childishly.

Glitch snickered. "You've always hated it here."

His reaction surprised her. She still wasn't used to the fact that he was remembering to, and some of his memories included her as a small child, so small that she couldn't possibly remember what life had been like. It seemed to her an unfair advantage.

"Why did I hate it here?" she asked. If he truly was the smartest man in the O.Z., answer her that!

Glitch's face, however, slid away from interest and into pallid control. She wondered when he would stop slipping between Ambrose and Glitch and become some happy medium.

"They are your memories, DG. Why did you hate it here?"

_Oh, no fair,_ she thought, _Ambrose thinks he's a psychiatrist. _However, she willingly closed her eyes. Taking a deep breath, she tried to grab onto the lonely ache in her chest, the thought of floors and floors of palace above and below. The memory came skipping to her like a child across a grassy field, innocent and eternal, calling out in the voice of her four-year-old self, so sad it almost broke her heart.

_Az, please play with me! Az, please? _

"I'm always alone here," she said, her eyes snapping open. "Mother and Father were always busy when we spent a season in the city, and Az... Az was always in lessons." Glitch/Ambrose nodded at her as if he knew what she was talking about, and she rolled her eyes at him. When she did, his face split back again into a glitchy grin.

"You've got us, DG. And trust me, there's going to be plenty of stuff to keep you busy."

Pfft. "Like what?" she asked him, more than a little skeptical.

"Well, there's a state dinner tonight in the Grand Hall. And there are your etiquette lessons, in addition to your magical training, and I _think_," he said, tapping these things off on his fingers, "that you've got a public speaking engagement on Wednesday, which is the day after tomorrow," he pointed out, as if she'd somehow managed to forget the days of the week.

A public speaking engagement? "On _what_?" she exclaimed, incredulous.

"The importance of the citizens of Central City to give to the Reconstruction fund."

"Oh." That was important; she wanted to point out how unfair all of this was, but her mother and sister were already back into the grind of their lives and they'd been imprisoned, too. Abused and terrorized and taken advantage of. "So," she said slowly, changing the subject. "If I can't go down to the kitchen, who do I need to talk to to get me something to eat?"

The rest of the day passed in the most boring, blue-walled haze DG had ever experienced. It was like being back in the Witch's tower, it was like being held in the underground complex; a prison was a prison.

She found Professor Lyman to be an unpleasant experience. He was restrained and distant, and didn't find her in the least bit funny. She could see him judging every sentence that came out of her mouth, carefully searching for lies or sarcasm. Every time he entered her room, he asked her a series of obscure questions, about history or the names of the major ranges in the west and north.

After the third such round of questions, ending with answers being patiently given to her and her grumpy demand of how she was supposed to know in which annual Central City was founded, she asked him if he got any delight in watching her squirm under his interrogation. The huff he left the room in was the most satisfying thing she'd experienced since her return.

It was another night and half a day before she was free. The time since she'd waken up had been full of small triumphs; she'd fought her mother into allowing her to take the smallest set of rooms she could find, on the condition that they were on the same floor as Azkadellia. Magic lessons wouldn't begin until next week after Tutor arrived from Finaqua and had time to settle in. She'd also managed to work out of Ambrose that Jeb worked _inside_ the palace... meaning it wouldn't be as hard to track him down as she thought it would be.

Freedom, however, was not as crystal cut as she'd imagined it would be. She'd argued her mother into letting her wear a pair of black slacks, the trade off being a lace blouse and camisole with ugly black boots. She'd somehow managed to divert everyone's attention, assuring both Glitch and Az and her father that someone else was going to be with her for the afternoon. Her round-robin fabrication had worked – everyone else thought another was showing her to her room, and she couldn't help feeling impressed with her skills.

She stopped being pleased with herself when she opened the door and saw Corporal Hass standing on the other side.

Her smile faltered. "Corporal!" she exclaimed in surprise. "What are you doing here?"

"I've been temporarily assigned to your guard, your Highness."

DG sighed, her head dropping into her hands. She had been _this_ close...

She hadn't expected to come against the problem of a bodyguard so fast, but _someone_ was making sure she didn't even have to brave the walk to her suite alone, unprotected – or unsupervised.

"Who assigned you?" she asked. When he didn't answer, she frowned. Her money was on her mother. "Well then, I'm going to the library." She figured somewhere inside she knew where the library was, so when she entered the elevator, she picked a random floor and began the search.

Three different random floors, a mix up in back tracking, and a stroke of luck with an accidental left turn later, she found the library. Hass had begun to grumble his doubt in her ability after the incident with a dead end on the second floor, so she grinned at him triumphantly.

The library was huge, and completely devoid of anyone else. There was evidence of slow cleaning, that the room was being reestablished, but most of the books were still on the shelves. DG spent the next hour gathering volumes from boxes and from the dusty shelves, history and geography and an interesting looking bestiary.

Her new shadow, she found, worked exceedingly well as a pack-horse. With his arms stacked full of books, she was free to start reading as she found her way to her suite – another adventure, this one shorter as she knew which floor it was on.

She read in her sitting room until the first sun went down and she was forced to get up to turn on some lights. As she settled back down into an armchair with another book, she wondered who was going to come and find her first. She'd chased Hass out into the hallway, and her room was entirely, blissfully quiet. Another hour had passed, and the second sun was down, when there was a knock on her door.

"Come in," she called out, expecting to see Glitch, or maybe her sister, but was surprised to see her old teacher peek his head in.

"Am I actually being invited into your presence?" he asked her with a teasing grin.

"Yes," she said, and she smiled fondly at him. "Toto, how are you?"

When he came into the room, she saw that he held a box in his hands. He handed it to her as soon as she stood up. "I am fine, DG, thank you for asking. I was asked to deliver this to you, and told that it was important." When she looked curiously at him for more information, he only shrugged, non-committal.

DG tossed her book aside, her heart leaping. She sat down with the box in her lap. "You're here early, aren't you?" She looked up at him, and motioned for him to take a seat.

Tutor sat down on a chair that matched hers. His posture was proper and perfect, his back completely straight. DG grinned at the sight of him, before turning her attention back to the box. When she lifted the lid, she saw something lumpy was wrapped in a large piece of cloth. A note sat on top. "Ooh," she said happily, plucking out the note.

"No, DG, my arrival was scheduled for Tuesday night. I'm not early."

She turned to him, her grin turning sheepish. "Sorry. I've kinda lost track of the days."

Tutor smiled forgivingly. "That's all right, DG. In your situation its to be expected. And, on that subject..."

The man continued to talk, but DG's attention was lost. She unfolded the note and with a sigh, recognized the handwriting.

_I thought you might want these. I'll see you tomorrow. W.C._

She read the note a second time, wishing he'd given her more. Ten words; even with a pen, he didn't have much to say. Unceremoniously, she dumped the contents of the box into her lap; the feeling of it made her eyebrows shoot up in surprise.

_He didn't..._ she thought, as she unwrapped the cloth from around... her sneakers.

DG started to laugh. _Really_ laugh. Whatever her tutor was saying, he stopped to watch her as if she'd gone insane. When he saw her stuffing her feet eagerly into the familiar shoes, he sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"I was told by Mr. Cain that it was something of the utmost importance."

DG was still giggling. "Oh, it is important," she said, her lonely and quiet day fading away, a strangely happy feeling replacing the sadness. _I knew there was a reason I loved him, _she thought, and though she wanted to feel guilty for it, she found she couldn't possibly make herself. Cain, even from wherever he was, was finding a way to think of her.

"When was Cain in Finaqua?" she asked her teacher.

Tutor sighed, his lips settling into an unhappy line. "He passed through there this morning. There were things he and I discussed, and then I do believe he bribed your ladies' maid into retrieving those for him."

"Aww," she said; okay, she didn't have socks on, but the soft, comfortable feel of her sneakers and the fact that he'd thought she would need them had her soaring over the freaking rainbow. With a geeky sigh, she turned her attention back – finally, politely – to her teacher.

"You scared for our lessons?" she asked, with a quirk of her eyebrow.

Tutor cleared his throat. "You sound very confident."

"I do?" she asked, her face falling slightly. "I don't _feel _that way. But I need to know. And I need to learn. Control, because I seem to burn everything. And I can't keep it up for very long. I need to work on that."

"You burn everything?" Tutor asked.

"Well, when Az uses her power, she's got complete sway over it. Mine's full of bangs and flashes and everything ends up scorched."

Tutor smiled. "Yes, and the exact reason for that is control, DG. I'm glad you've been able to pinpoint that fact yourself."

There was another knock at the door, this one soft. DG called out for the person to enter, and jumped to her feet when she saw her mother. Tutor, also, stood respectfully, and bowed when the Queen addressed him.

"I'm glad to see you've arrived, old friend," the Queen said, a kind smile on her face. "Tomorrow, you will meet with my daughter and I. There are things she has brought to my attention that need to be discussed."

DG's good mood began to dissipate immediately with the mention of this. When she'd tried to talk to her mother about what had happened inside, and outside, the royal crypt, her mother had waved her off, citing that DG needed rest, and such things needed a safer place to be discussed than an open room in the palace infirmary.

"We can't do it tomorrow," DG said. She'd thought about this. It was time she would start putting her foot down. If she was being tested, if these things were in her hands and her hands alone, then she was going to make sure she was in change from the get-go.

The Queen turned to her daughter, puzzled. "Why not, my angel?"

"We have to wait for W–" she started, but immediately stopped herself. "I mean, Mr. Cain."

The Queen shook her head. "DG, we have all of the captain's reports, and he's out of the city, with no telling when he'll be back. This cannot wait."

DG straightened her shoulders. "Yes it can, Mother. Even if it's for a few days. I won't do this without Cain."

"Darling, you must –"

"No!" DG said firmly. Her mother's mouth snapped shut in surprise, and DG wondered how often her mother was interrupted. _She probably got a lot of it from Az, in the years after the Witch took over Az's body,_ she chastised herself sharply. With a sigh, she was immediately contrite. "I'm sorry, Mother. But I'm serious. Cain will be back, and I'm waiting for him. You can't do this without me, and I can't do this without him."


	40. Chapter Forty

**Author's Note**: Thank you to all my readers, reviewers, and subscribers.**  
**

**Warning**: This chapter contains material rated** M**,** NSFW**, or my personal favourite,** NNA**.**  
**

* * *

**Of Light**

**Chapter Forty**

* * *

_- Alta Torretta, Heart of the Shining City -_**  
**

* * *

DG was going to make a list of all the things she was never going to do again, and then she was going to bully Ambrose into making sure she got her way. At the very top would be public speaking. Never again would she do it, no matter what the cause, no matter the benefit to the country. She'd stand up and look pretty, she'd smile for cameras, she'd sit through anything they forced her to, but she would never, ever speak publicly again.

"It didn't go so bad," Ambrose was assuring her when she returned to the palace.

DG was practically in tears. "I sounded like I had no idea what I was talking about. You just shoved the speech at me, I had no time to prepare for it. And I mispronounced almost _everything. _Who names things in this stupid country? I'm not doing that again. Ever." She punctuated her last sentence emphatically by whirling around and pointing a finger straight into his chest.

Ambrose was startled to come up against her after following her all the way from the car, up the steps of the private family entrance, and toward the elevator. It was here in front of the lift that she'd turned on him.

"DG, you should calm down," he said gently. "You did fine, everyone loved you."

The princess rolled her eyes. She turned away from him to jab at the button of the elevator. The pumps on her feet pinched her toes, and the waist-cincher she wore seemed to be tightening on its own. "Everyone wasn't supposed to _love_ me, they're supposed to want to donate to the Reconstruction fund."

Glitch's dark eyes focused onto hers. "DG, it was your first public appearance, and moreover, it was your first public appearance _by yourself_. You did fine, stop worrying."

"I can't stop worrying with so many pairs of eyes on me," she muttered sadly. "I'm going to see Az."

"Do you want company?"

DG's shoulders fell as the lift doors slid open. "No, thanks, I want to enjoy the last few minutes before my shadow finds me." All day she'd been trying to give Corporal Hass the slip, and she always managed, but he always managed to find her again, with increasing accuracy and speed.

Her father had assigned her a bodyguard and had meant him to be a deterrent; instead, DG saw him as a challenge. She used her magic to be a better hider than Hass was a seeker. Although, after a small amount of time she'd usually have to put herself in his way for him to 'find' her, because otherwise he'd have to blow the whistle on her. It made her a little sad that the most she'd ever been able to shake Cain was less than ten minutes. But he tried, Hass... he tried.

She got off on the twenty-eighth level and took the servant passage to the stairs. Two flights, and when she came through the doorway, she automatically made for Az's room. Though... not to see her sister.

Jeb was standing outside of Az's door.

"Jeb!" she said happily as she approached him.

"I'm not telling you a thing." He was smirking at her. _Smirking._

"I didn't ask you for anything," she said defensively. _All right, this plan is a fail,_ she thought; she could tell as soon as she laid eyes on that smirk, and its creepy similarity to someone very close to them both.

"The Princess Royal is sleeping," Jeb said pointedly, "so you'd better get out of here before the corporal comes looking for you." Jeb nodded back the way she'd come. "You should cut the poor guy a break. Not everyone can keep up with you." The smile he gave her was genuine.

_Where can I go? What would I like to see, alone,_ she asked herself, and it came to her quickly. The view from the rooftop Az had mentioned. She had an hour before she had to start getting ready for another formal dinner, and her shadow would never find her on the roof.

However, when the elevator doors slid open her spine shimmied at the sight of the ghostly arboretum. Every tree here was dead, the floor scattered with withered leaves and needles, so much so that her steps crunched beneath her. She was remembering her dream, and its smooth, cool shift to the Papay fields; but the true Papay fields bloomed with life now, the land healing, the cloak of darkness lifted. Problem solved.

_No, not problem solved,_ she thought. She reached the glass dome and walked along it until she found a door. It was locked, but her magic was an easy enough solution for that. The blast of cool air after the damp, stagnant smell of the arboretum helped to clear her head, even if it was tinged with smoke.

_I have until the anniversary of the Eclipse_, she thought, trying and failing to comfort herself. It was a little over ten months away. She could study and she could learn, so that she wouldn't come up as so inexperienced in this new world. She could stop herself being taken advantage of.

Az had been right about the view, it was breathtaking. The light of the hazy suns glinted off the towers and spires of the city. From her bedroom's view on the thirtieth level, the tower's position at the center of the city, the spread of buildings seemed to go on forever. But here, on the roof... she could see forests and the mountains beyond. Somewhere to the west, she knew, was the Sorceress's tower; to the north, the frozen realms of the Northern Guild, and the Ice Palace, where her family had yet to return.

_You can't let them get involved,_ she thought, thinking of her family. Az was going to be queen, and the pressure was on to start adjusting everyone to that fact. Ambrose wanted DG to lend him her memories to put onto discs, so that the events on the Witch's balcony could be shown to the entire country. She had a feeling he was going to ask Cain, as well.

Cain...

No, she didn't have much beyond that. It was late afternoon, and the suns had begun their lazy descent. She imagined dinner guests would be arriving soon.

_His note said 'tomorrow'. Today is tomorrow... why aren't you here yet?_ She knew she was petulant, impatient, and whining like a girl. Luckily, she didn't have to worry about her dignity in her own head and could let go. _I wonder if I'd miss him so much if I wasn't so lonely_, she mused idly as she walked back through the arboretum to the elevator. But she knew she'd miss him wherever she was, no matter what.

When the lift stopped on the thirtieth level, she found herself face to face with her shadow as he waited to get into the elevator. He didn't look in the slightest surprised to see her. "Don't you have a life?" she asked him as she marched straight past him. He turned on his heel and followed her.

"Yes, but I also have a job. That would be you." His voice perked with amusement. She'd argued with him over forms of address, and she'd finally driven it into his head that if he wasn't going to call her DG then he shouldn't call her anything at all. Thankfully, he hadn't seemed to have a problem with it.

"Are you having fun yet, Corporal?" she asked him when she reached the door of her suite.

"Oh, tonnes. I'm beginning to see why the captain was so hesitant about this."

DG blinked. _Shapeshifter bodyguard say what?_

"What do you mean?" she asked carefully. Her hand slipped from the doorknob as she turned around to face him.

"I told you I'm only temporary. I was informed I'm holding this position for Captain Cain, but I heard the Queen's advisor say they're still trying to convince him," Hass told her without batting an eyelash.

DG's jaw dropped. Something inside of her flared, and she actually felt the magic coursing through her with the emotional spike. _You know, for that you get to stay in the hallway,_ she thought bitterly as she slammed the door in his face. Two minutes later he was joined by a maid, booted out unceremoniously by the overwhelmed princess.

DG ran her own bath and slid into the water hoping to relax; she washed, but noticed the water was getting hotter. _Calm down, it could just be gossip._ But as much as the arrival of her shoes had managed to quell some of her unhappiness, she knew she was angry at him by the way her hands shook, by the way she was slowly boiling to death. She got out of the water with a frustrated sigh.

She was toweling off when Az arrived with her dinner dress. It was baby blue, beaded, and came with another damn matching waist-cincher. She put it on behind the dressing screen, then held her hair out of the way as her sister laced her up. DG had just begun to rummage around for a hairbrush when she turned around to find herself faced with Az's hands.

"Hold still."

DG felt the magic come at her, felt the roots of her hair grow warm for the briefest moment before the hair hanging down her back seemed to disappear. Touching the top of her head tentatively, her hair was loosely wrapped in a knot and secured at the base of her neck with a clip that threatened to overbalance her.

"I know you don't like it too complicated," Az said with a small smile. DG gave her sister a hug. "I can teach you how to do all these little tricks. Tutor thinks them a waste of magic, but Mother taught me them, and then... well, _she_ wasn't very patient." DG didn't have to ask who _she _was, only gave Az a comforting smile.

Together, the two sisters walked down to dinner, which, in DG's mind, was too ridiculously long, and the Mayor of Central City was an asshole. She noticed her father always took the first opportunity to fly from these types of things, and that both her mother and sister tackled them with a strange, detached enthusiasm. And she... she stayed quiet.

After dinner, she was faced with temptation and took it. No, that wasn't entirely true. She created a tempting circumstance for herself, and then threw herself headlong into whatever fray she ended up finding. She was... testing her limits, learning her boundaries... and the boundaries of those around her.

Hass, she knew, would eventually learn to stop listening to her when she told him to stand in the hallway. Especially when she entered a room with more than one exit. She let her hair down and sat through an hour of listening to her mother and Ambrose go over plans for the disassembling of the machine contained within the Tower, and the distribution of the materials; when they were completely distracted, and neither one of them had laid eyes on her for over fifteen minutes, she quietly got up from her chair and walked serenely along the bookshelf, browsing... and then casually slipped out the door at the far end.

_Impulsiveness is a failing,_ something in her brain called out... she told it to shut up. She didn't even quite know what she was doing, or where she was going, she was just... following her feet. She felt like a child sneaking through the palace in the dark, and it was _fun._ She made her way silently to her room, ducking into shadow when she came across anyone.

Often, in Kansas, she'd sneak out of the house, out her window and off the roof; it was easy and it was some semblance of freedom from perfect parents who'd wanted to smother her with their love and affection and mighty aspirations. The freedom of wind and grass and endless sky. Suddenly thirsty for just that, her dress was on the floor and she was shoving her legs into pants, sliding her feet into her sneakers. A shirt and a coat, and she was on her way, throwing open the door to the hallway, and –

"Where d'ya think you're goin', kid?"

_This_ close...

Cain was leaning against the wall opposite the door to her suite, wearing his traveling clothes; her knees nearly buckled at the sight of his hat, which tipped upwards to reveal blue eyes that pierced into her; the smirk on his face was too much. She took a step back, and then another. She was angry with him, and she didn't want to forget it by falling into those endless eyes. She continued walking backwards as he stepped into the room; he turned around to lock the door, and when he faced her again, he found a wisp bouncing accusingly in his face.

"You _left._"

"And I came back," he pointed out. The little light jerked back and forth an inch from his nose. "As fast as I could. Now tell me again, where did you think you were goin'?"

"Where do you think? I was going to find you. You said you'd be back today."

Cain chuckled at her and tried to wave off her insistent little wisp. "And here I am, DG. Why're you so angry?"

DG glared at him, hard. She wasn't going to let her resolve falter just because he smiled, and pretended nothing was wrong. "You left," she repeated. "And you're not going to stay with me. You turned down the position they offered you."

Cain exhaled loudly, slowly, shrugging off his duster. He laid it over the back of a chair before he spoke. The little light followed him, whirling in steady circles around his head. "DG, can you call this thing off?" he asked in a tight voice, jerking his head towards the wisp.

She sighed, and she felt herself fall apart a little bit. The light skipped haltingly across the space between them and hovered above her head, ready to attack him again if need be. Cain was now eyeing her warily, while she watched him expectantly. When it became obvious that he wasn't going to say anything, she felt tears begin to prickle at the corners of her eyes.

"Why did you turn it down?"

"Princess, I will tell you everything if you'd just put that thing away," he said firmly.

DG growled at him, but held out her palm; the wisp did an odd little dive and disappeared.

"You ducked your guard," Cain observed, looking suspicious of her. She rolled her eyes.

"Yeah, he's not like you. He trusts me too much. Someone should really warn him."

Cain raised his scarred eyebrow. "DG, I trust you."

"No, you don't," she said, deflating a little.

"Okay, let me rephrase that." He took his hat off and laid it on top of his duster. He walked over to her, never taking his eyes off of hers. A foot away, he stopped. DG swallowed hard. "DG, I know _when_ to trust you."

"No," she said, shaking her head. "Don't start that. You haven't told me why you left."

"That's more talkin' than I want to do right now," he said, stepping closer to her. "I'd like to work on the fact that you're angry with me." His lips brushed against her temple, a hand ghosting up her back to entangle in the hair at the base of her neck. "How long until your guard notices you missin'?"

"Shift change is in an hour," she whispered; he was too close, the hand on the back of her neck was heavy, steady, distracting. "They'll notice then, and come looking for me." An hour was a lot more time than they'd ever been given. Both seemed to realize it at once; Cain jerked her towards him, his free hand snaking around to cup her bottom, pressing their hips firmly together. She wrapped her arms around his neck, her nails dragging along the collar of his shirt, digging into the skin just above.

She was still angry, and he knew it; his entire body seemed to flare at the thought of how beautiful she was when incensed, how her blue eyes flashed torrents. When their eyes met, her voice was ragged. "You still haven't told me why you turned down the position."

His fierce grip on her neck relaxed. "Darlin', you prove too much a distraction for me to guard you."

Her eyebrows knit together, her head cocking to the side. "That's not true, and you know it, Wyatt," she said, her words soft. In this new place, when every wind that swept across the plains of the O.Z. seemed to want to sweep her away, he could anchor her. "Are you still running from me?" she asked; if he continued to run, trapped by duty in the palace, she wouldn't be able to chase him.

Instead of answering her, his mouth found hers in a searing kiss. His tongue immediately sought entrance to her; she melted underneath of him, moaning as she gripped at the collar of his shirt, pulling herself up to him; when he broke away, it was too soon. "There are things I've got to do right now, DG. You need to be patient."

"For how long?" she demanded. Her hands were still on his collar, and she shook him slightly, yanking his body towards hers and causing his arm to tighten instinctively around her.

"Not long," he growled, his voice a deep reverberation through his chest that shook her enough to loosen the grip on his collar. When he felt her pulling away, he quickly grabbed her by the thighs and lifted her up; his arms braced her against him as he looked up at her. Her dark hair falling around them shadowed their faces, but blue to blue, their eyes burned. "Not long, and I'm all yours, kiddo."

_All mine,_ she thought. DG was smiling even as she fused her mouth over his; vaguely she pointed in the direction of the bedroom. When they crossed the threshold, he kicked the door shut and she locked it with her magic. She found herself dropped down on the bed, and when she righted herself, he was standing over her, unbuckling his gun-belt. He'd already removed the gun from the holster and put it on the nightstand, where he might easily reach it even when he was... she reached out and began to untuck his shirt from his pants.

"Remember we were talkin' about patience?" he asked her with a smirk, as he stepped backwards away from her hands. With a growl, she fell back onto the mattress to lean up on her elbows. He smiled when he realized she was watching him.

Finally, he tossed the belt and empty holster onto a chair; he came to the bed in an instant, kneeling one leg down on the mattress directly between her thighs. She gasped as his knee pressed up, as he leaned down to kiss her. He tried soft brushes of his lips, but she met him every time with fierce passion. His hands were on the side of her face, in her hair; hers fumbled with the buttons of his vest. When she'd managed them, she moved directly to the smaller buttons of his shirt; she sought the warm flesh hidden underneath, the burn of his skin against her palms.

"Easy there, darlin'," he muttered against her mouth. He tried to still her hands, but she swatted him away.

"No time, Tin Man," she said in a rushed whisper. She tried to push both articles of clothing off his shoulders at once; with an amused grunt, Cain straightened so he could rid himself of the vest, then shirt, and watched as DG scooted up properly on the bed to lay her head upon the pillows.

Gazing down, he toed off his boots before sitting on the edge of the bed. She was breathing deep and uneven, her breasts rising and falling enticingly. Reaching over, he pulled the sneakers and socks off her feet. His hand ran over the bare arch of her foot, over her ankle, up inside her pant leg to grip at her calf. Frustrated, she pushed at his hand with her free foot.

"Get up here," she demanded. Moving up the bed to straddle her hips, he braced himself with one arm to lean down and press a kiss into her neck, as his other hand yanked at the fastening of her pants. Undone, unimpeded, he pulled the material off. "No fair," she muttered, realizing that he was going to undress her before he touched her. She sat up between his legs, her hands immediately on his abdomen, her mouth closing on his ribs. He groaned as he reached down to yank her shirt up over her head; she lifted her arms to allow him before going back to her assault of his chest. Her hands were at the button of his pants, desperately seeking to release what she felt straining against the material.

DG's hands stilled when Wyatt grabbed her chin in his hand, forcing her to look up at him. The hazy light filtering in through the windows did little to illuminate his face; a low growl emitted from him as he bent over to kiss her, to fiercely possess her mouth and body with his own. Her hands flew to his shoulders, holding herself to him as he lowered them both to the bed.

He stretched out beside her, a hand sliding fluidly down her body to slip inside her underwear, pressing his index finger between her folds to gently rub her. She pulled his lip between her teeth and nipped him before breaking away from him. "You're still wearing pants," she complained breathlessly.

Cain chuckled at her impatience. With a grin, he hooked her leg over his hip and rolled onto his back, so she was sprawled out over top of him. Immediately she slid down, working the button and zipper quickly; she hooked both his pants and his shorts with her fingers, and as he lifted his hips to allow her to pull them down, she came to the curious realization that she'd yet to... _see _Cain naked. She hesitated.

Sensing the lull in the fire that she'd been pouring over him, he pulled her flush against his chest, her hands trapped between them. His arms wrapped around her back, and he stared up into her eyes. "Feels a little bit more like the first time?" he whispered huskily.

Swallowing, she nodded. Her head was spinning, but there was no way she could back out of this, not when she'd waited days for him and wanted him so badly. She didn't think she'd ever wanted anything as much as him, now. She kissed him softly, returning the tender caresses he'd offered her before. She fought her hands back from between them, and cupped his face between her hands, bracing herself against his hard chest.

"I love you," she breathed, the words falling out without thought, and without, she found, regret. Still, she dropped her head into the crook of his neck and hid there. Cain sighed, before putting a hand on the back of her neck to guide her up to look at him again.

"I love you, too, DG."

The princess kissed him then, because it was the only thing she knew was right to do. Their mouths locked, his tongue entering her mouth and spreading his familiar taste into her. He rolled them back over, his hips driving hers firmly into the bed. Her hands left his neck to shove his pants and shorts off his waist and down until she could hook them with her feet; she had them past his knees when he kicked them off.

He was braced up on one arm as his free hand began to explore her body in earnest. He stroked her heavily, dragging along her naked skin; when he met the obstruction of her bra, she helped him by unfastening it. After he pulled the lace away, he hadn't even dropped it before his mouth closed around her breast, gently tugging at her nipple, flicking over it with his tongue. DG moaned, bucking her hips up towards him, earning herself a groan from the Tin Man. His erection was rubbing over the wet fabric of her underwear, and when she pressed herself up into him again, his hand left her breast to grip her hip and push her into the bedspread.

"Please," she whimpered as she found his eyes. Cain lowered his head to her shoulder, his mouth sucking at her neck as he pushed her panties to the side; positioning himself before her, he hooked her knee over the crook of his elbow and drove into her. His first thrusts were erratic, before he found a rhythm that she tried her best to follow, lifting against him, trying to pull him deeper every time he pushed back into her. His mouth continued its assault of her neck as her head fell back, her throat straining before him.

When she began to pant, he pushed at her free leg to straighten it, and then rolled them to their sides. The shift in position made DG cry out, as did the change in pace as he rocked his hips against her. It began to build low between her legs, and he felt her as her muscles began to tighten around him.

"Yes," he hissed as her hand closed around his arm, fingernails digging into his bicep. "Come for me, DG." Even at his words, it began to wash over her, as he rolled her onto her back again, yanking her leg up to drive deep. One more thrust and she was over the edge, clinging and shaking against him. His release came moments later, a shuddering cry and then a strangled whisper against her hair that might have been her name. Most of his weight pressed down on her, but she didn't care; her body was hot and sweaty and he covered all of her. When he lifted himself away and fell to the bed beside her, he was trembling.

"You're gonna be the death of me, kid," he groaned with a chuckle, as his hand slid over her stomach and grabbed her hip to pull her against him. She snuggled into his chest, ignoring the tickle on her nose against the hair under her cheek. He didn't say anymore to her, as he tried to regain his breath. His heart pounded to the point where she could almost feel it beating against his ribs with her fingertips.

"Did you really mean what you said?" she asked him, worried after a while that he'd fallen asleep.

He grunted a response. "You're gonna have to be a little more specific, darlin'."

She lifted up on an elbow to look at him. "That when you're finished doing what you need to do, you're all mine."

Wyatt's blue eyes opened to lock onto hers. "'Course I meant that, DG, or else I wouldn't have said it."

She was hesitant to ask her next question, and it took a moment for the words to form. The fingers of her free hand traced idly on his stomach. "Does that mean you'll be my bodyguard, and go with me wherever I go?"

Cain sighed, and reached out to take her fidgety hand. He entangled their fingers, squeezing slightly. "I'd like to be a lot more than that to you, Princess. And you know I'm always goin' where you go, as long as you're honest with me about what you know."

He meant the Emerald; he meant the fight with the lieutenant on the ridge; he meant the fact that she'd let outlander go without telling him why. She was asking so much from him, and she hadn't yet found the time to tell him why she needed him. But... in her defense, he'd left before she really could.

"I can be honest if you are, too," she whispered. Cain nodded at her, his gaze boring deep into her. In those cool eyes she could see the reaches of his devotion for her, and it frightened her, but she didn't pull away, look away.

"Go get cleaned up, sweetheart," he said softly. "Take a bath, I'll wait for you in the sitting room. I'm startin' to wonder where that bodyguard of yours is."

DG found herself laughing. "I told you, he's no match for me. Just think, I was able to sneak away and was accosted by a stranger, and ravaged," she said teasingly. "Such lax security around the princess." She clucked her tongue disapprovingly.

Cain grunted as he sat up, cocking an eyebrow at her as he went. "Get into the tub, DG. As amazin' as the sight of you naked is, you need to get cleaned up. We can talk when you're done."

She moaned as she rolled away from him, tossing him his pants when she reached the edge of the bed. "But what if I like smelling like you, Tin Man?"

Cain growled low in his throat. "Not the way I'd like people to find out about us, DG." He stood up as he put his pants back on. She stood as well, and peeled off the soaked underwear she still wore. She'd have to take them to the bathroom and give them a rinse before she let the laundry have them.

_Damn_, she thought with a smirk, _I need to get him out of those pants more often_. Turning away before she got anymore brilliant ideas, she sauntered naked to the bathroom, knowing without looking back that he watched every step she took.


	41. Chapter Forty One

**Author's Note**: Thank you to all my readers, reviewers, and subscribers._  
_

* * *

**Of Light**

**Chapter Forty One**

* * *

_- The Desk of the First Advisor -**  
**_

* * *

Glitch needed a break. Just a quick one, but a break nonetheless. He'd been hunched over a desk for an hour and a half, reassuring the Queen that it would be prudent to only disassemble the machine contained within the Tower, and not the entire building itself.

The prison had its uses, and so did the machine shops contained within the lower floors. Where would they keep twenty-six hundred Longcoats (if they ever found them), and how were they going to keep the army supplied in this budding new economy (and how to afford it)?

His brain was back and forth, and he had another raging headache.

The Queen had gone back to her suite, the consort having arrived to coerce her to calling it a night, after her ordeal she needed her sleep, and _"Goodnight, Ambrose,"_ and blah blah blah. Glitch wanted to chide himself for his disrespectful thoughts, but it was a hard sell. _He_ still had actual work to do, after having entertained every worry the woman had, and the night was going to stretch on and on, like the nights before and every one hereafter.

He should appreciate that her Majesty was so concerned, and that the highest higher-up was interested in all aspects of her rule, but for once would someone just trust that his brain _wasn't_ misfiring every time he made a calculation or gave an order. It would be nice to be listened to, just for once...

Tearing his overactive gray matter away from the schematics of the abomination she'd made of his Sunceder, covered in notations about the best way to bring the machine down without taking down the building around it, he stretched his back, quietly groaning as it gave a satisfying crack. His long fingers went to his temples, trying to rub away the pulsing pain. He made his way out of the study and into the hall, and jumped away when he saw someone was standing there.

Corporal Hass cleared his throat. "Sorry, Master Ambrose."

"Um, it's okay," the startled advisor said, his heart racing now. "Why are you standing there?"

"I'm waiting for DG."

Glitch's head turned slightly to one side. "She left. A while ago. Didn't you know?" Hass, for the moment, was rendered speechless, and was faced with the now gleeful Glitch. "You're really bad at this, aren't you?" he asked.

Hass shook his head. "She won't let me watch her every minute, and the second I'm not, she's gone!" The corporal had learned already that the advisor was one of the few people in the palace who knew the trouble he had actually been given in guarding the strange princess.

Glitch offered the poor soldier a pat on the shoulder. "Listen. Go check her room before you panic. Sometimes she just does this kind of stuff to prove she can."

The corporal managed a thinly stretched smile as he took off in the direction of the elevator. Glitch watched as the man reached a run, and he shook his head with amusement as the corporal disappeared around a corner. It really wasn't fair to allow her to get away with this. Someone needed to tell her parents, honestly someone should.

Can't let the princess have _too_ much fun...

With a sigh, Ambrose headed in the direction the young corporal had gone. If DG wasn't in her room, then the palace was too big for just one person to be looking, and _someone_ had to make sure that Hass didn't find her too fast.

* * *

_- Alta Torretta, Heart of the Shining City -_

* * *

As DG waited for the tub to fill, she sat on the edge of the long bathroom counter, staring at the window as it fogged up. Her brain was back in the bedroom, back with the words he'd said to her; that he would one day be all hers, and that he loved her. When the words had tumbled out of her mouth like an unexpected hiccup, she'd ducked her head in embarrassment, though the words weren't a lie; and instead of casually acting like it hadn't happened, Cain had looked deep into her eyes and told her... he_ loved _her, too.

_Your love for him binds him to you..._

She heard the voice like an echo, calling out through the night beyond the window, faint and weak. Curious, she hopped down from the counter, her bare feet hitting the cold, tile floor. She reached over and turned the taps until the water from the faucet ceased to flow. She went to the window, struggling with the latch for a moment, before it swung freely open. She listened, but heard nothing but the sound of the streets below, and the lonely whip of the wind.

With trouble, she pulled the window closed again. The wind gave her a chill, so she stepped gingerly into the bathtub, sinking down into the warm water. The muscles between her legs cried out in protest when she ran a washcloth over them, wiping away the evidence of Cain's touch. As she soaped away the slick mess of love making from the insides of her thighs, she wondered absently about forms of Ozian birth-control.

Admittedly, the thought of blonde, blue-eyed miniature versions of Wyatt Cain sent decidedly girly shivers straight through her heart and down to her core. But, no, that wasn't the way it could happen. She wouldn't be able to search for a way to destroy the Emerald out-to-here pregnant, or God forbid, carting around a newborn. Neither she or Cain had made any promises or mention of the future, beyond what, she assumed, they were about to discuss... and of course, his assurance that soon, he wanted to stay with her always.

She didn't bother washing her hair, as it was her second bath of the night; when she was done washing, she stepped out onto the mat and wrapped a towel around her breasts, tucking it under one arm. She knotted her hair up on top of her head in a messy bun, and reached over to wipe the steam away from the mirror.

Ten days before, she'd been fantasizing of the time he'd intended to spend with her at Finaqua, after he'd escorted Azkadellia to the Gale Tomb and back. She'd hoped – all the while knowing she was crazy for hoping – that she'd be able to seduce him into kissing her. She'd known that all he'd needed was to get used to the idea that happiness and a peaceful life _could_ happen to him a second time, and then maybe, just _maybe_, he'd let his guard down enough for her to steal a kiss or two, to show him she was waiting for him.

Instead, a prison-escape, desperate cross-country race, and a handful of whirlwind sexual encounters later, she was worrying about getting pregnant, wondering what the future might hold, and about to tell Cain about the whole new batch of trouble she planned on throwing herself into.

Staring hard into her reflection now, as her skin glowed in the aftermath of making love with her Tin Man, she hoped that the truth wasn't going to change anything, anymore than everything else in her life had changed in the last two months. With a sigh, she left the bathroom, and crossed her dark, empty bedroom to peek into the sitting room.

Wyatt was standing near the door at the opposite end of the small, private room. He was watching out into the hall, waiting, she assumed, for her guard to make his belated appearance.

"Still not here?" she said to him, as she leaned in her own doorway.

When he looked at her, she knew that he was back into Tin Man mode; she loved it when he was. It was so much easier to frustrate him then. She seemed to have tossed him into momentary speechlessness at the sight of her, hair up, wrapped in a towel, beads of water still clinging to her neck and shoulders.

"I'm really gonna need to have words with this kid," Cain said after a moment, recovering himself; he forced himself to look away from the towel that draped just across the tops of her thighs, hiding her sex and little else. She was utterly nude and enticing, and even across the room, he could tell she was out for nothing but mischief.

"Do you see the incompetence you've left me to deal with?" she demanded in mock outrage; she didn't wait for him to answer, only turned on her heel to march back into her room. When she reached the massively imposing wardrobe, she heard him clear his throat from the doorway; he'd followed her back into the bedroom. Ignoring him, she threw open the doors, and began to study the contents of her closet. Nothing here was _hers_ by her own personal definition, and there was nothing she wanted to clothe herself in, but after a moment, she picked out a nightgown that seemed to be the least ruffled and ribboned. When she let the towel drop, Cain gave an audible groan.

She peeked over her shoulder, giving him a grin. He returned it with a smirk, and she watched him avoid temptation by walking out of the room. Her shoulders fell as she dressed quickly. She found a robe and tied it loosely closed before she joined him. While she'd been taking a bath, he'd lit a fire, and pulled two chairs close to face it. He was sitting in one when she walked up behind him and placed a tentative hand on his shoulder. His hand reached back to rest on top of hers, and she noticed for the first time, his wedding ring was absent.

With a wave of her hand, without moving from behind him, she felt the static charge of magic leave her and watched the door swing close, heard the lock click securely, and all the lights go out. Cain looked up as they were thrown into almost complete darkness, with only the light of the fire to see by.

"Where did you go?" she asked him softly, before he could try to deter her with his usual barrage of questions. With a sigh, his head fell forward, exposing the back of his neck. She reached down with her free hand to stroke the strained muscles, and felt the tension knotted there.

"I went back into the mountains," he said after a very long moment of her fingers absently stroking him. "I picked up our mount in Loamwarren; it's a nice little place. And then I went southwest..." he trailed off absently. She was glad she was behind him, because the grin that began to sneak onto her face would have stopped his talking short. It was a giddy thrill, one of those 'little things'... not only had he kept the horse they'd taken from the Longcoats, but apparently, it was _their_ horse... she leaned down and placed a kiss on the top of his head. It was the closet thing to shrieking in girly delight she could let herself get.

"Why did you go southwest?" she prompted gently, as he straightened his back once again, and her fingers fell away from his neck. Cain definitely wasn't one for sharing, which she considered unfair, after she thought about all the times he'd sat her down, stared hard, and demanded she tell him _everything_... and it was her turn again, if she ever managed to get all of this out of him.

"I wanted to see for myself how my group was captured," he said, growling low in his throat. "Wanted to see the illusionary road. I spent an afternoon in the complex, before it's scheduled for demolition."

DG's brow knit together as she frowned. An unexpected chill, the reminder of the Commander's fortress, and their very eventful 'stay' there. She couldn't stop the falter in her voice, or the threat of tears when she asked "Why would you go back there?" She took her hands off of him, and moved them to grip the back of the chair. "Cain..."

"I wanted to see with my own eyes the trap we walked into, DG," he said, sounding slightly angry... not with her, but at something already over and done. "I wanted to look to make sure the general's men didn't miss anything."

"Did they?" she asked carefully.

"No, this Commander did a pretty good job of cleanin' the place out. I sure hope I don't ever get the chance to meet the son of a bitch face to face, though. I saw the mess your room was left in, kiddo." He looked up at her, his jaw set firmly; his eyes seemed to have darkened somehow with his memories. "How bad did he hurt you, DG?"

DG tried a smile, but it failed. Swallowing away the lump in her throat, she said "Not as much as we hurt him. Az was there, too, Cain. Nothing can really hurt us if we're together." He sighed, and turned to look back at the fire. DG placed her hand over his shoulder again. "It wasn't enough, though. We didn't kill him. Maybe we should have."

"You've got a plan for him anyway, don't you?" he queried softly. "DG, what did the Gale tell you?"

Again, she retracted her hand, but this time, he reached out and grabbed onto it, holding her behind him. He didn't turn to look up at her, allowing her the confidence that would come without the interrogation of his eyes. With a sigh that trembled her entire body, she told Cain what she'd only told the Queen. "The Gale said I was being tested." She considered telling him about Azkadellia's test, but decided it was not her secret to divulge, that she could, at least, afford the future queen that tiny bit of privacy.

Cain snorted. "Saving your sister and killin' the Witch wasn't enough of a test?"

"No, there's more," she said. "She said..." Her eyes lifted as she tried to remember. "She said something evil was gathering with what was left of the Witch's forces."

"And that's why you have to destroy the Emerald?"

DG nodded. His hand was closed easily around her wrist, anchoring her from running, though she wasn't sure she would if she were free to. "That's not the only reason. She said the magic in the Emerald is binding her spirit to the O.Z. She said... she longs to cross over the Shifting Sands."

Below her, Cain nodded slowly. "How long do we have?"

How long do _we _have. Her heart swelled in shameless appreciation towards him. "She said it would begin on the anniversary of the Eclipse. It's going to give me some time to concentrate on learning to control my magic."

With a groan, Cain settled back into his chair. His thumb stroked her wrist absently. "You think you can handle one more lesson on your workload?" he asked. His head tilted back, and he was smirking at her again. She couldn't believe how easily and acceptingly he'd taken her news.

"I don't know," she said slowly, "I'm going to be pretty busy."

"I'm gonna have to insist," he said firmly. "I'm not takin' you on another cross country goose-chase until you learn some proper self defense. You can't be draining your magic every time we come up into a fight, and there might not be a broom handy." He was smirking in that familiar, comfortable way, but DG only glared at him insolently, wondering how he even _knew_ about that.

"I guess it depends on who my instructor is going to be," she said, a grin slowly creeping up onto her face, as his eyes twinkled teasingly at her. "I've heard I'm pretty hard to teach."

They could take all this in stride easily, if they were together, she knew. Her fear of the future was abating, albeit a very small amount at a time.

She looked down upon Cain as he shook his head in aggravation. "It'd be me when I'm in the city, and Glitch while I'm away. I think between the two of us we could handle you, DG," he said hesitantly. Under his heavy hand, she squeezed his shoulder before letting him go. She moved around to kneel before him, watching the dim light thrown by the fire dance over his face. "Someone's gonna find us sittin' like this." Whatever emotion was in his face, she couldn't read it, she could see too much, each flicker at odds with the next.

"Wyatt," she said, offering him a hint of a smile. "I'm a princess, no one ever forgets to knock."

He closed his eyes, frustrated. When he opened them again, he found her staring up at him with those eyes that most closely resembled that endless Kansas sky she'd gone on about. He sighed, long and low; he reached down and helped her up into his lap.

DG shifted to get comfortable, clearing her throat a little as she curled into the cradle of his arm. His gaze settled on her, his most serious, no nonsense face; before the attack on the Tower, he'd looked at her like this, with those conflicted blue eyes, and drawn her to him.

"If it's okay with you, Princess," he said, the last word punctuating his sentence, all too clear that he'd meant it as a subtle reminder that back in the palace, she wasn't _just _DG. "I'd like to hold off makin' any announcements until I'm back here full time."

She nodded slowly, thinking and hoping she understood what he meant. "We can do that," she said, "as long as you make sure to come back to Central City once in a while so I don't forget what you look like."

Wyatt smirked, that insanely frustrating half-smile of his that betrayed the stoicism he wore as a mask. That quirk of his mouth that reached all the way up to his eyes, where sensuality winked at her, like a trick of the light. "Don't worry," he whispered, "I'll be back here often enough to remind you who you belong to." His hand ran up her back, between her shoulder blades; he gripped the back of her neck and pulled her head down to him; her gasp was caught up inside of him as he captured her, his tongue plunging into her open mouth.

When he broke away from the pull of her, he pressed one more eager kiss to the side of her mouth, before lowering his face into her hair. "We do this, Princess, we do it all the way, and we do it right."

Meekly, unsure of him, she nodded. Weren't they already doing this? His kiss had thrown her into a spin. The common sense voice at the back of her head seemed to realize that somewhere in that sentence, he'd insinuated at a very deep and profound promise to her, but even as her rushing brain tried to grab onto it, there was a knock on the door, and someone was calling out her name quite insistently. Once again... the cavalry had arrived, so to speak.

The lights flared to life as she climbed off his lap, straightening her robe. Behind her, she heard Cain rise from the chair. As her hand closed around the knob, she heard the lock click open, her magic applying itself without her conscious thought. The princess pulled the door open to reveal her frustrated and haggard-looking bodyguard, Corporal Jeremy Hass.

"Damn it," she muttered, stomping her foot. "You found me. Now it's your turn to hide." She turned and walked away from the door, leaving it wide open. Cain was shrugging his arms into his duster, and his fedora was already situated on his head.

"She's been unattended for almost an hour," Cain said gruffly to the corporal. DG squeezed her eyes shut; Hass was about to get an earful. "You're lucky I got here, Corporal, before she made it out of the front gates." With her back to both men now, DG grinned. Out the front gate. Honestly, she wasn't that talanted... yet.

DG turned around to watch both of the men who were out for her safety. "It's not his fault I took off, Cain," she said. "You should be yelling at me, not him."

Cain shot her a patronizing look. He walked intently over to Hass; DG couldn't suppress the smile that came when she saw the corporal flinch at Cain's approach. The Tin Man jerked his head towards the direction of the hallway, and walked out of the room with the young soldier; he closed the door behind him, so that DG couldn't hear what he was about to say.

"Captain," Hass said with a small cough. "In my defense, someone needs to tie a bell around her neck."

Cain cleared his throat, looking around the hallway, but he saw no one. "Listen to me," he said firmly. "You don't watch her enough. If you're not watching her, you're not gonna notice when she's up to somethin'." No, if the kid wasn't watching her, he wouldn't notice the way she looked around guiltily, as if trying to see if anyone could hear her thoughts, or the way her sky eyes would lift to the ceiling when she tried to remember, or the way a frown would tug at the corners of her mouth when she concentrated.

"Sir –"

"Not out of your sight, not for a moment, you hear me? I don't care what she tells you, because from what I hear, she's been gettin' away from you on a regular basis."

Hass nodded slowly. The Captain was an imposing figure, and eight annuals in a cold iron suit still reverberated somewhere deep in his eyes, coming out as a deep rumble in his voice. The young corporal straightened his shoulders. "Yes, sir," he said with a nod.

"One day," Cain said. He hesitated for a moment, almost grimacing. "One of these days, let her get away from you. _Follow_ her, and see where she goes. You'll see what kind of stuff she can get herself into, and you're gonna see how stubbornly she just keeps on goin'. Follow her, but stop her before she gets herself into any real trouble. Understand?"

Again, the corporal nodded slowly. Cain studied the young man for a moment; the kid had been an excellent scout in the woods, but he was too trusting of DG, of that fact she'd been right. He trusted too much that she was going to act like a princess. He'd learn, though, of that Cain was confident.

Footsteps were coming towards them; Cain put a hand on his holster, but the figure that came around the corner was familiar. Ambrose, in shirt-sleeves and trousers, walked towards them with a smile on his face. "Did you find her?" he asked, directing his question at the corporal.

"Yes, sir. She was here with the captain."

Glitch nodded, his eyes twinkling. "And how's it going, Tin Man? I see she didn't kill you when she got her hands on you."

"I didn't know I was in danger of that," Cain said with a smirk. He turned towards the corporal. "Stay out here, shut up and pay attention." The wide eyed corporal nodded, and Cain and Glitch walked into DG's room, leaving the door open.

"Aww, you found a friend," DG said cheerfully, though she was slightly disappointed he hadn't come back alone. Ambrose gave the princess a small bow.

"Your mother wants to hold your council tomorrow afternoon," the advisor said pointedly. "Now that Cain is back, I mean."

"Me?" Cain asked uncertainly. His eyes shot towards DG, who nodded at him.

"She wants to discuss the fate of the Emerald," the princess said softly. "I made her wait because you have to be there, since this is going to involve you. I don't want to do any of this without you."

Cain raised an eyebrow, and looked at Glitch. "She told the Queen of the Outer Zone to _wait_?" Glitch nodded, and Cain looked at DG, impressed.

"Well then I'll see you tomorrow, Princess," he said. He stepped towards her, placing his warm hands on her upper arms, and lowering his head to place a soft kiss on her forehead. She took a deep breath, inhaling the smell of him, of leather and musk and something that might have been gun oil. She offered him a weak smile when he pulled away, and watched as he tipped his hat to Ambrose, and walked out of the room.

"It's too late at night for you to be looking at someone like that," Glitch said, as he stepped up beside her, watching her closely as her eyes hungrily followed the retreating Tin Man. When she turned to him, a full smile was written on his face. Her shoulders fell, though she tried to smile back at him. "You should get to bed, DG. We've got too many long days ahead."


	42. Chapter Forty Two

**Author's Note**: Thank you to all my readers, reviewers, and subscribers.**  
**

* * *

**Of Light  
**

**Chapter Forty Two**

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_- Alta Torretta, Heart of the Shining City -**  
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* * *

Most of Thursday passed in a dull haze for DG. After spending the morning locked in her sitting room with her shadow and a seamstress who was brave enough to take her case, she'd been marched straight downstairs to go through a massive collection of charities, expected to pick two or three to patron – and since she wasn't able to make any clear decisions, all of the paperwork was sent directly up to her chambers for her to look over at a later period. After that, she'd been escorted by her shadow to a brunch with her mother and several of the cabinet ministers.

It took hours before she was able to have some time to herself. Cain was due to arrive after dinner, and DG had adamantly refused to attend an opening with Azkadellia in the hours between. Az, to her credit, hadn't cared, and had seemed perfectly all right to climb into the car with only Jeb, the tinted windows obscuring them from prying eyes. DG waved as the car went down the long, circular drive of the courtyard and passed through the gates.

She found Raw waiting for her when she returned to her room.

"Raw thought Princess might like to take a walk. Many days pass since Raw and DG walked together."

DG felt her shoulders relax at the lack of expectation in his voice. She gave him a very willing hug and a grateful smile. "Thank you," she said, "that would be _really_ nice. Just give me a minute to change, okay?" She went into her suite, with Hass close behind; she found it a little disconcerting to know he was waiting for her while she changed her clothes, from a lacy yellow tea-dress to slacks and a blouse, a coat and a black cloche hat pulled down as low as it would go.

In the hallway, after he'd settled behind her once again, she turned to her shadow. "Jeremy, why don't you take a break?" she asked him, sweetening her tone and the sentence by the use of his given name.

Hass only smirked, and shook his head. "Not a chance, DG."

DG rolled her eyes at him. _He learns fast. The Tin Man would be so proud_, she thought petulantly as she turned back to the Viewer. Together, they walked slowly down the hallway. She knew exactly where she wanted to go. "Mother said there is a portrait gallery on the twelfth level," she said to her friend when they'd reached the elevator.

Hass cleared his throat. DG turned to him, exasperated. "What is it?"

"That's one of the public floors, DG. I don't think its such a good idea for you to go down there during the afternoon hours," he said carefully, avoiding looking directly into her eyes.

She frowned. "Well, how about I promise to be on my best behavior?" When Hass shook his head, she chewed on the inside of her lip, studying him. It was his job to guard her, not to stop her from doing what she wanted to do. The elevator doors slid open then, and she stepped into the lift. "Hurry up if you're coming, Hass," she said impatiently. "You can tell on me later if you want, but I'm going."

Raw followed DG into the elevator, hiding a smile at the princess's sass. After a moment of indecision, the soldier followed, hopping between the sliding doors as they closed. Clearing his throat, he settled into his usual stance to her side, and said nothing further.

Because the hat obstructed the view of her face, DG was able to browse the gallery without anyone interrupting her. She and Raw walked slowly, with the corporal trailing a few feet behind. The gallery itself was long, carpeted, with massive columns in the center of the room that split it into two distinct walkways. The aisle between was cluttered with benches and potted plants.

The paintings were all amazing, as DG wandered from one to the next; some were of her ancestors, some were of royalty before the Gale Dynasty, some were of important individuals over the course of Ozian history, and others seemed just to be beautiful strangers of no significance.

But at the very end of the gallery, where they would cross over to begin the slow walk down the other side, was a massive full-life portrait, the only one on the entire wall. DG's eyebrows shot up in surprise, and she tore the hat off her head as she looked up at the faces in the painting.

It was the coronation portrait of her ancestor, Dorothy Gale. But unlike paintings and pictures on the Other Side of monarchs at the time of their coronation, Dorothy was painted sitting on a throne, and behind her stood her consort... a man who looked so unreservedly familiar that DG kept blinking her eyes, wondering if his face might change.

Hass caught DG looking up at the painting, open-mouthed. "Beautiful, wasn't she?" he said, thinking she was looking at Dorothy.

DG shook her head slowly, moving towards the plaque mounted on the wall next to the painting. "I've seen him before," she said, looking upwards again. Raw had stopped, and was watching the painting curiously as DG read the small plaque. "Nicholas Chopper," she said aloud. "Prince Consort to Her Majesty..." she trailed off, touching the words on the brass but reading them no longer.

DG was shaking her head again. "Something troubles DG," Raw said softly, laying a gloved hand down on her arm.

"No, I'm not troubled," she said, then stopped, realizing maybe he had a better grip on her emotions than she did. "I've... I've seen him before..." Her thoughts seemed to have gotten the better of her. "Raw, where is Ambrose?"

Raw looked around. "Sleeping at desk, Raw thinks."

She was off in a flash, running so suddenly and so fast that Hass and Raw had a hard time catching her before she hit the elevator. People watched her as she ran, noticing her for the first time as her hair flew behind her when she passed them. She growled with impatience at the elevator, and both Raw and Hass looked at each other, a little unsure of what drove the princess.

Once they'd reached their destination, DG threw open the door to Glitch's office without knocking. The advisor was sitting behind his desk, his head resting in the cradle of his arms upon the top. When the door flew open, his head snapped up, and he looked about blearily. He'd been sleeping.

DG fell back instantly. "I'm sorry!" she exclaimed. And then... "Why are you sleeping at your desk?"

Glitch shook his head. "A royal advisor's work is never done," he said sheepishly, wiping at the corner of his mouth. He stood, straightening his jacket, and gave her a small smile. "Is there something I can do for you, DG?" He was watching her expectantly.

"I..." she began, but faltered. She turned to the corporal. "I'd like a minute of privacy with my friends, Hass."

The corporal looked uncertainly at Glitch, who nodded his approval. "She's fine with us, Corporal. Wait outside, please." Hass did as he was instructed, and closed the door quietly behind him. "I wish it was that easy to tell Cain what to do," Glitch said with a snicker after the door was shut. "Sometimes I think that guy has boundary issues."

DG put both hands on the desk, leaning towards Glitch until he had no choice but to look straight at her. "Who was Nick Chopper?" she asked firmly.

Glitch's head fell to one side. "He was the consort of the first Gale Queen," he said slowly. "Husband of Dorothy, and your, um... greatest-great grandfather."

She looked at him, confused. "I thought he was with the city guard."

Glitch smiled. "You don't hear many people mentioning 'the city guard' these days, but yes, he was. He was also Dorothy's personal guard when she came to Central City. They married, and had a daughter named, um... something, but it was after _that,_ Dorothy was placed on the throne by the childless king. So the fact that he'd been with the city guard didn't matter."

"Oh," she said. She moved over to the wall and flopped down in an overstuffed chair, throwing her legs over an arm and sitting sideways. She'd just closed her eyes and let her head fall back when Glitch began to speak again.

"_And_," he said importantly, "As Prince Consort, Nicholas Chopper founded what is now known as the Order of the Tin Men." DG's eyes shot open, watching Glitch as his eyes twinkled merrily at the gem he'd just given her. "That's why the current Prince Consort is always Honorary Chief Commissioner."

DG looked over to Raw, who was wearing a small smile on his face. It was then that her suspicions were confirmed, that both of her friends knew that the path the Tin Man and she had taken had crossed over the line of professionalism, into the realm of 'conflict of interest'. "You two are gonna help us keep it a secret, aren't you?" She looked from the Viewer to Glitch, her blue eyes wide and pleading.

Glitch gave a cough, and began to speak in a very Ambrose-y voice. "Actually, DG, I was going to suggest that you tell your parents tonight about what's going on between you and Cain. We can stop the news from going public if you and he are careful, but you don't want to disillusion your parents about the nature of your... um, relationship with him."

DG frowned, not liking the tone he'd taken. "Do you think they'll have a problem with it?"

Glitch chuckled. "Of course they're going to have a problem with it. _But,_" he said, pointing directly at her, "there isn't much they're going to be able to do about it. You're of age, a second daughter, and he's one of the heroes of the Eclipse. If they give you too much trouble, though, you can always ask your mother about the scandal of her own engagement."

At that, DG grinned. Her father, the Other Sider, had surely had caused more of an uproar than a Tin Man would. But still... Cain said he hadn't wanted to make an announcement yet. Was telling her parents really an announcement? She was unsure. "Do I have to?" she asked Glitch, trying on her whiny, spoiled-brat voice.

The advisor shook his head. "Your parents will eventually want to _help _you find a husband." He was looking at her seriously now, and she hated it when he was serious, because it was always bad news. "I don't want to have to explain to Cain that your parents married you off to someone else, DG. I like having all my fingers unbroken, thank you." Glitch looked terrified at the very thought of facing Cain. "And you should consider yourself lucky. When the Sorceress killed you when you were five, it dissolved your betrothal to one of the Ixian princes."

DG's jaw dropped. "I beg your _pardon_?"

Glitch only shrugged his shoulders. "You don't have to tell them today, but you might want to do it soon." He folded his arms across his chest as he leaned back on his desk. She fell back into the chair, feeling like she'd just gotten an extension on her homework; was it fair that he had the ability to make her feel like that?

DG glared at him; it was hard to like the re-brained Glitch on some days, when he was at his most frustrating. How could he somehow keep his light-hearted aloofness, and completely nonchalant way of speaking, and then say such utterly complicated things; he was suddenly insightful, and almost completely clueless about it. He was both a blessing and a curse as a friend.

Getting up, she left Glitch and Raw in the advisor's office, and walked straight back to her chambers, Hass following closely behind. She left him in the sitting room, and closed the door to her bedroom. She tossed her coat and hat onto a chair, and fell onto the bed, onto the bedspread that she and Cain had made love upon the night before.

She missed him; Glitch's news of betrothals and foreign princes made her nervous, putting Cain in the very forefront of her mind, when she'd been doing such a fantastic job all day of distracting herself from the very thought of him. He would be leaving again in two days – for whatever reason, she wasn't completely sure... with all her new duties, and her hectic schedule, where could they find time to be together?

That one, she had time to figure out. Crawling up to the top of the bed, she kicked off her shoes and burrowed into the blankets. She hoped she would sleep right through dinner.

* * *

_- Alta Torretta, the Heart of the Shining City -_

* * *

By the time Cain arrived at Alta Torretta, it was after dark. He'd passed through the gates and across the courtyard, meeting no one but the uniformed palace guard. He skirted the front entrance, walking the perimeter of the building until he reached the private entrance located at the back of the property. Tipping his hat at the guards flanking either side of the doors, he made his way straight for the elevator.

He met very few people on his way to DG's chambers; it was late, and most of the paper-pushers had gone home, and most of the in-house staff had retired to their rooms. Only fools like Ambrose, who did it out of love and loyalty and not for the money, were still working.

When he'd made it to DG's suite, Corporal Hass was the one that opened the door. He opened it wide for Cain to enter.

"She's still sleeping," he said in a hushed tone. "I can wake her now, if you'll just –"

Cain shook his head, holding up a hand as a signal for the corporal to stop talking. "I'll wake her up. Make sure the overnight guard is here by nine, and tell him that DG might be held up at this conference until late."

Hass nodded his understanding.

"You're dismissed," Cain said, and he gave the young soldier a rare smile. "Go home to your wife." Cain knew all too well how guarding someone of importance could be a harsh mistress.

Hass disappeared out of the room, and Cain locked the door after him. He crossed the sitting room to DG's bedroom, turning the knob; finding no resistance, and surprised that she hadn't locked herself in, he pushed the door gently open. DG was sleeping in the middle of her bed, blankets kicked down to her feet. She was curled up on her side, an arm thrown over her head.

With a sigh, he made his way over to the bed; kneeling down, he lifted her arm away from her face. "Darlin', it's time to get up."

"Go away," she moaned, rolling over onto her other side; she stretched out into the most alluring position, one leg straight, opposite knee lifting, stretching her pants over the beautiful curves of her backside, so tight between her legs. Cain closed his eyes, shaking his head as he stood up. He was due to deliver her to her parents private study, nowhere was it said he was to touch her beforehand.

"DG, up. Now." There was a sharp edge in his voice.

She was grumbling as she pushed herself away from the mattress. "Yes, sir," she muttered, almost incoherently. She stretched her arms over her head, arching her back, her tiny breasts straining against her shirt. Cain forced himself to look away again, placing his hands behind his back. "Congratulations," she said as she stood, "you're the most efficient alarm clock I've ever had."

The corner of his mouth twitched. "You ready to go upstairs to meet with your parents?"

DG rolled her eyes. She grabbed a black felt hat off a chair and jammed it onto her head. She tilted her head back to look at him from under the low brim. "What?" she said with a grin, when he cocked an eyebrow at her. "You're not the only one who can rock a hat, Tin Man."

With a sigh, he reached out, cupping her face in his hand. His thumb stroked her cheek. "Time to put the serious face on, Princess. Let's go."

The silence between them was heavy as they made their way to her parents residence. As they stepped out of the elevator into the gigantic, mirrored entryway, everything was dark and quiet. Two guards stood outside of the elevator, though neither made any indication that the youngest princess and Tin Man had arrived. The entire floor had been cleared of all staff; even the number of guards had been lowered.

Outside the double doors to the study, DG took a deep breath. She was nervous, though she had no reason to be; she was frightened, though of what, she wasn't sure. Her parents, though very loving, intimidated her; they were not the simple people she'd been raised by. They were complicated people, who thought out every step they took and discussed and studied everything.

She looked down when she felt Cain take her hand into his. He gave her fingers a gentle, comforting squeeze. "I'm right here behind you, kiddo. Get goin'." He let her hand drop, and reached past her to open the door for her.

Inside, her mother and father waited. A long sofa directly faced a huge fireplace, the only source of light in the room, on which sat her mother; Ahamo stood over the Queen's shoulder, a glass of something amber colored in his hand. Glitch was standing next to the window, looking out at the city; he waved a hand in her general direction as a greeting. Tutor sat in a carved chair against the wall, his gaze welcoming but sad. All eyes in the room had turned to her, including... "General Andrus?" DG greeted curiously, as his was not a face she'd expected to see. The man did not look at all happy to see her, at which she wasn't completely surprised – her flight from Finaqua with Jeb surely would have given the old man a stroke.

"The general has just delivered us some disturbing news, my darling," the Queen said, reaching out her hands for DG as her daughter moved to sit down beside her. Cain moved to stand against the wall, as near to her as he could be and still have the wall at his back. His head was down, the brim of his hat obscuring the view of his face.

"What's wrong?" DG asked, looking up at her mother, and then her father; everyone seemed too unsettled.

"There hasn't been a single arrest of a Longcoat in over a week," the general said grimly.

DG slumped a little, her eyes swinging to Ambrose. He shook his head at her, his dark eyes conferring to her that this was not only a bad thing, but a _very_ bad thing.

"Scout reports coming in before the... _disappearances,_" the General said delicately, his eyes boring pointedly into DG, "were that any Longcoats out of Central City were taking refuge in the western mountains. My men have swept the entirety of the west and have come across no one. Reports from the east also indicate _no_ Longcoat activity."

DG tried to speak up, but her voice faltered. Clearing her throat, she tried again. "We... um, Mr. Cain and I had a run-in with some Longcoats, the morning after we escaped the complex," DG said slowly. She tried to quell the memory of the adrenaline-fueled moments she'd shared with Cain after it... their first time together.

"They would've been stragglers," Cain said; while his words were directed at the entire room, something steady and absolute behind his words was meant just for her. "Wherever they were headed, I'm sure the whole of the Witch's army was makin' their way there, too."

Ambrose spoke up. "I think it would be wise, Majesty, to increase security at the Tower. We don't want to lose the Longcoats we already have in custody."

The Queen nodded absently. "General, I trust you can manage those arrangements. I'd like another meeting tomorrow morning, before you leave for the Tower." She turned her head away from him.

Realizing he'd been dismissed, the general gave a curt nod to Cain. "I will see you in three days time, Captain."

Cain tipped his hat in acknowledgement; DG found herself confused and unhappy about it. Before she could say anything, however, her mother's soft, wispy voice spoke up from beside her, though her mother kept her face turned away. "My angel, you need to tell us everything that was spoken to you by the Gray Gale."

DG took a deep breath, realizing that everyone was staring at her. _Quick and painless, like a Band-Aid,_ she told herself. She began to speak. "I was told that the Emerald no longer needed a guardian, and that the magic within it needs to be destroyed. She said it holds her here and keeps her from finding peace... she also said that... in the darkest corner of the country..." She had to close her eyes as she tried to remember the exact words. "'In the darkest corner of the country, an evil force gathers with the remnants of the Sorceress's army."

Glitch snorted. "Well that explains where all the Longcoats went." Cain gave him a hard glare, and the advisor's mouth shut with an audible snap.

"Does it? Where is the darkest corner of the country?" DG asked.

Tutor cleared his throat. "That, DG, is debatable. It's going to take some research."

As always, DG's brain tried to find the lighter side of things; a tiny voice tugged at the back of her mind, _Look DG, now you've got your own Scoobies. _DG grumbled at herself, _Shut up, brain._

Her father was watching her, his eyes intense as he studied. It made her uncomfortable, and she wished she could say something, but under the scrutiny of so many eyes, she wasn't about to start arguing with her father.

The consort spoke. "Everything, DG. What else?"

"Um..." DG said, trying to pick through what else she needed to say. Some things, she wasn't about to tell them. "She said that after the anniversary of the Eclipse, there would be signs to guide me. Oh, and that this is all a _test_..." she said the last word slowly, letting it roll off her tongue carefully. She waited, and then –

"A _test_?" Ahamo demanded. He looked hard at his wife. "Isn't she a little young to be tested?"

The Queen shook her head, still gazing into the leaping flames. "As the Gale deems fit, so shall it be," she said, the corner of her mouth turning up in a crooked smile. "Ambrose, I want you to make sure the number of her public appearances is greatly reduced." The Queen spoke directly over her head, as if she wasn't there. Under the brim of her hat, DG glowered. "Her lessons, Tutor, must continue. She is still too weak."

"Hey!" DG exclaimed. "I took care of myself just fine out there. I'm not weak."

"Thats not what she means, DG," Tutor said quietly, but the Queen held up her hand to silence him.

"DG, this is no game," her mother said softly, turning her lavender eyes on her daughter. DG drew in a shaky breath at the sight of her mother's eyes, so scared and haunted. "You are to find a way to destroy the power of the Emerald; you must leave your sister and I to deal with whatever threatens the kingdom. We won't be able to help you, and you cannot depend solely on yourself."

"I think I've got that covered," DG croaked quietly. She looked back at Cain, whose deep blue gaze penetrated into her. He gave a small nod. Glitch, also, straightened his shoulders and smiled at her, and she gave him a grateful smile back.

"It would be best, I think, if you returned to Finaqua until your sister's coronation," the Queen said absently, once again turning back to the fire. She might not have moved at all, might not have laid those pale lavender eyes on the young woman sitting next to her. "Your magic will be more potent there, and you will better be able to –"

DG cleared her throat. "No, I'm staying in Central City," she said firmly.

Ahamo glanced down at his daughter. "DG, you don't talk to your mother in such a –"

The princess shook her head resolutely. "I'm staying in Central City. I'll do better here with Azkadellia than I would alone in Finaqua," she said. She hoped to hell her voice sounded as strong as she wanted it to be. Her heart was pounding. She wasn't about to be banished to the lake palace alone, no matter what the magic in the water would do for her.

Most everyone in the room was staring at her in amazement; when she looked at Cain, his head was tilted down to hide his eyes, but she thought she could see a smirk playing on his lips. DG stood on her feet, wanting to feel more in control of herself. "This task was placed on _my_ shoulders," she said. "_I'm_ the one that's got to deal with it. I'm not a puppet and I'm not a pawn." She looked directly at her father. "Got it?"

Her mother sighed before standing. She took her daughter's hands in her own. "You must keep me informed, DG, if you have any more dreams," she said; she seemed to have moved on from her daughter's little show of independence, and DG was glad for it. At least someone listened to her. "Anything concerning the Emerald at all. You'll know it when it happens to you, and you must make sure to tell me."

DG nodded, looking into her mother's familiar, beautiful eyes. "You can do this, DG," her mother said, putting a hand on her face, soft fingertips tracing DG's cheek. "But this is meant for you to do alone, without your sister. You must learn to control your magic, and to strengthen yourself. Everything you come up against may not be purely magical, and you're going to need protection."

"There's no need to worry, Majesty," Cain said gruffly. "I can keep her safe well enough."

The Queen nodded at the Tin Man, but Ahamo was glaring. As the Queen walked serenely from the room, DG could hear her father muttering "I still say she's too young." After she was sure they'd gone, she nodded goodnight to her friends and slipped out of the room. She counted her steps, and got to twelve before Cain's hand closed around her arm.

"DG," he growled low at her. He'd stopped her mid-step, and she stumbled backwards a bit, into his chest. "You're starting to get too good at lying."

With a sigh, she leaned her head back against his shoulder. "Who said I was lying. I didn't lie." When he turned her in his arms and glared down at her skeptically, she relented. "Okay, maybe I didn't tell the whole truth, but I wasn't lying!"

The lamps of the hallway had been turned down as low as they would go without turning off. His blue eyes pierced her very core as he swept them over her; with a tug, he pulled the hat off of her head. He let go of her arm to smooth down her hair. "DG, you promised the Commander the stone."

She frowned. "Once the magic is gone from it, it's just another rock, isn't it? So what does it matter?"

"Shady dealings for a princess," he said slowly. "You wouldn't want to find yourself at the end of a promise to an outlander that couldn't be kept."

"You worry too much," DG sighed, wrapping her arms around his neck, pressing herself close; she didn't care who might walk up and see them, to her it didn't matter. Cain was hesitant, but his arms soon fell about her waist. "And you're one to point out that I'm omitting things, Cain." She pulled back, her blue eyes cutting into him. "You didn't tell me that you were leaving to meet with Andrus."

It was Cain's turn to sigh, long and deep. The corner of his mouth gave a twitch. "Army needs some help searchin' the mountains for any Longcoats. Their numbers are stretched pretty thin."

DG shook her head slightly. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't think you'd be too acceptin' of anything that's gonna take me away from you," he said shortly. He almost pushed her away when she reached up on her tiptoes, but when their mouths touched, he found himself pulling her closer at the clandestine contact.

"Wyatt," she said slowly when she'd pulled away; she kept herself up on her toes, leaning against him for balance, so that she might have her mouth as close to his as possible. "You told me that you had things to do, and believe it or not, I know how to be patient."

"You could have fooled me, kiddo."

When her jaw dropped, he leaned down to kiss her again. Damn whoever might find him with an armful of princess, it didn't matter in that moment. When she pulled away, her eyes winked promises at him.

"Think you could sneak me out of my gilded cage, Tin Man?"


	43. Chapter Forty Three

**Author's Note**: Thank you to all my readers, reviewers, and subscribers. This one is for Purplerhino.

**Warning**: This chapter contains material that is rated **M**, **NSFW**, or my personal favourite, **NNA**.**  
**

* * *

**Of Light  
**

**Chapter Forty Three**

* * *

_- The Streets of Central City -_**  
**

* * *

"This isn't exactly what I meant," DG said glumly, plopping down onto the bench she'd found herself led to. Their usual mixture of Cain's careful, cautious planning and her blind luck had got them out the front gate. However, he'd only led her around the corner before stopping at the bench. The perimeter fence was at her back, along with a tall hedge with obstructed any and all view of the courtyard and driveway.

Cain stood over her, his fists on his hips. _Damn_, she thought, _maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all._

"What do you want, DG?" he asked her bluntly.

Her mouth fell open as she considered him, and what he meant by this. He watched her, no hidden meanings in his blue eyes, only his simple question. She sighed. "I want to leave Princess Dorothy Gale in the palace for a while. I want to be able to touch you and stay with you afterwards," she said. She blushed when his gaze fell to the side, and she was almost certain that he might be blushing, too. "I want some time alone with you before you go. Any of those, I'll take," she finished, and dared to let her head fall to the side so she might get a better look of his face underneath the brim of his hat.

Cain sighed. Yes, this was his DG; she never seemed to want small, attainable things. The corner of his mouth twitched as he noticed her watching him expectantly.

"Don't leave my side," he said quietly, "and _do not_ speak to anyone. And _don't_ argue with me when it's time to come back here, either." His stony face warned her not to question him; she felt her own face wipe blank at his seriousness. Mustering what she could, she nodded.

The maze of streets he led her down left her confused. She walked close behind him, paying close attention to every move he made so she might be ready when he tugged at her hand or held out an arm for her to stop – which he did a lot. She might have been just a girl off the farm, but she could walk a city street, thank you. Still, she followed him without a word, shrinking close whenever they passed a stranger, the black felt cloche hat turning her into just another person in just another place. She could have been anyone, and she _loved_ it. No one they met paid them any attention at all.

Eventually, a narrow alley led to a damp brick wall with a metal door that groaned loudly when opened. She was ushered into a short hallway, and then up two flights of stairs. It was dismal and old, but clean enough.

The apartment he opened up for her was small and mostly empty. She looked around as he bolted the door – she heard three separate locks. A hazy pink light shone in the window from the street; Cain made no move for a light switch. Seemingly uncomfortable, he cleared his throat as he removed his hat and duster.

DG took this as a cue to speak; butterflies were flitting nervously in her stomach. "Thank you," she breathed, finding she had precious little else to say.

"It's not much," he said; he was turned away from her, and for some reason, this was unacceptable. She crossed the room and placed her hand on his arm.

"I like it here," she said quietly. "It's Spartan. It's perfect. I feel like I can breathe."

Cain raised an eyebrow. "Spartan?"

Her eyes sparkled merrily, though in the dim light, the playfulness was lost. "Yeah... like simple and disciplined. It's very you." She laughed, her fingers brushing his forearm, the stiff material of his shirt.

Wyatt's eyes seemed colorless in the dim light. He looked down at the hand that had touched him, at the young woman he'd somehow managed to fall in love with. Somehow, once again, she'd caught him. Somehow, he _did_ love her, despite all the difficulties it presented. She was as much a part of him as Adora had been, and still was. Impossible, but true.

On the road to the Gale, somewhere their desire for one another had overcome them, and their bodies had tried to tell them what their heads and hearts were still trying to grasp.

He didn't know how to pinpoint quite when he'd realized he'd fallen in love with his princess; somewhere during the ten hours in the truck, while she'd slept with her head in his lap, he'd felt it. Somewhere during the three day separation when he'd traveled south alone, he'd known it. As readily as the words had fallen from her lips, so had they from his.

And now, here she was. Standing before him in the dark, completely herself and not everything else that came with it; she was solely his, even if it was only for a few short hours.

"Say something, would you?" DG asked him in a shaky voice.

Cain realized he'd been staring at her. Instead of speaking, he plucked the hat off her head and placed it on the table. Silhouetted against the triangle of light cast by the window, they stood apart.

She made the next move, simply because she couldn't stand the intensity of his gaze any longer. She took a confident step forward, closing all space between them; her hands went to his elbows, locked at his side, as her lips moved to the underside of his jaw, leading a trail of tender kisses to his ear.

"Wyatt," she whispered; his name sliding between her sweet lips seemed to want to undo him.

He moaned low in response, so low that she barely heard it, though she felt the resonance in his chest against her own as she pressed herself to him. His hands caught her by the hips, splaying his hands over her; his thumbs caught the edge of her shirt, slipping underneath to brush her skin.

She laid her head on his shoulder as her arms snaked around his neck; her fingers came to rest on the back of his neck, nails stroking his muscles, his skin feeling flushed underneath of her touch. When he pulled away from her, her eyebrows drew together as she looked at him curiously, worried, but Cain only took her by the hand and led her wordlessly into the bedroom. When the door was shut behind them, within seconds she found herself pushed gently against it. He leaned down, his broad body covering her slender one; the kiss he gave her sucked all the breath from her body.

Impatient for him, she tore her own shirt over her head, dropping it at their feet as her hands returned to his neck, yanking him towards her for another kiss; his tongue proved dominance over hers as his hands slid down her shoulders, the roughness of them poorly hiding the absolute gentleness of his touch. He made quick work of her bra, and it soon joined her shirt on the floor. She knew she should feel utterly exposed, but the icy blue gaze that swept over her was warm, loving, and she couldn't shy away from it.

Cain watched her as she worked the buttons of his shirt, as she revealed slowly his chest; with every button opened, she placed kisses on his skin, his chest hair tickling her nose until she was grinning. When she had it completely undone, and she'd pressed her lips to the trail that led below his navel, he growled and jerked her upwards.

"What's wrong?" she asked, the smile wiping from her face as she found herself pressed up against the door again.

"Let's take this slow, sweetheart," he said simply, placing small, feathery kisses to her bare shoulder. With a moan, she melted against him, the feel of his hard chest against her breasts making her mind spin, and a low heat begin to pool somewhere near her knees. She gasped when he swept her up easily, carrying her the few feet to his narrow bed. He laid her down carefully, toeing off his boots before stretching out beside her; she followed his lead and kicked off her shoes, listening to the thud as they hit the floor.

Both half naked, they took their time. Her fingers danced over the red scar he'd gotten during the Eclipse, and he hissed at the memory. When she tried to press him to the bed so she might climb onto his lap, he shook his head and plied a kiss to her lips, rolling her onto her own back.

Hours, it seemed, he spent learning her; his mouth left hers to follow an invisible trail; down her neck to the hollow of her throat, down her chest until his tongue was skating circles around her breast. She arched into him, encouraging him with a low moan. Though he took the time to brush his thumb over her nipple, causing her to cry out, his mouth continued south, over the dip and curve of her belly; he straddled her legs to unfasten her pants, hooking his fingers into her underwear, he pulled both articles of clothing down and off her hips. She lifted up, pulling her legs free of the material, faintly registering that it hit the floor.

When his lips gently kissed her hipbone, she grabbed a handful of sheet and bedspread; when his head lowered to her inner thigh, his kiss hotter, wetter, she squeaked. His hand ran up her opposite leg from her knee to the upper crease of her thigh, and instinctively, she jerked her legs up, holding her thighs together. Cain chuckled, and with a sigh, pressed his face into her belly.

"I'm sorry," DG said, clearing her throat. "I just – well... I –" She didn't quite know what to say.

"Its okay, darlin'," he muttered against her, before pushing himself away from the bed; she sat up and wrapped her arms around her knees as he stood to remove his pants. Her blue eyes watched him carefully, eyebrows perking as he smirked at her; her eyes fell away in the same moment his pants did, and she felt herself blush. Why, she wasn't quite sure, but her reaction made him smile. The show of teeth, the easy way he moved around her, revealed himself to her, felt strange, but oddly right.

Her pulse quickened when he returned to her side, stretching out beside her; he immediately entangled his leg between hers, spreading open her thighs so he might run a hand down her stomach, in between her legs to the heat he found there; seeking what would make her cry out until she was arching against him again. His erection pushed insistently at her hip as she managed to get an arm around his neck; she hauled Cain down to her, her lips finding his and her tongue darting dangerously into his mouth. He groaned.

"Want you," she whimpered against his neck, as his thumb replaced the pressure on her, so his fingers could slide down, slip into her. Her head thrashed as he began to drive her upwards, his strokes long and slow, his clever thumb keeping an easy pace.

"You got me, DG," he said raggedly; he was beginning to pant with his control as he pleasured her. She growled at him then, and the sound shot straight to his groin; she was the most impatient woman he'd ever encountered, and by the gods, he loved her for it. There was no subtlety or restraint, only open honesty with DG.

She whimpered at the loss as he pulled his hand away. Cain slipped between her thighs, and taking himself in hand, rubbed against her entrance. She hooked a leg around his waist, urging him forward with silent pleas. Groaning, he rocked into her, inch by inch, until he'd filled her completely. The sigh that escaped her washed over him, and he lowered his body to hers, bracing himself with an elbow as he kissed her tenderly.

Slowly, they moved together; his hands caressed her breasts and neck, eliciting happy hums from her as her legs tucked up against his torso. The deeper he went, the more her back arched, until he raised up on his knees to thrust into her, the soft mewls coming from her spurring him on. He knew he'd hit his mark when she jerked violently, and she cried out "Wyatt!"

Cain held her by the waist, pushing into her and in the same moment pulling her to him. Her hands were fisting at the sheets beside her head, as she completely lost herself in his loving; her breathing began to hitch as he felt her tightness begin to pulse, wrapping so hot around him that he knew he wouldn't be far behind. His pace quickened, his thrusts driving into her harder and faster until the princess under his hands nearly lifted off the bed with a shuddering cry. She clamped down hard, the entirety of her body shaking.

Her arms went about his neck, weakly holding him to her as he moved within her; he returned to the slow strokes of their beginning, her quivering muscles dragging his release from him as he spilled out into her, his fingers digging into her flesh almost to the point of bruising.

Falling heavily beside her, he managed to get a blanket over top of them as she snuggled into the cradle of his arms, her warm, playful lips pressing kisses to his hot, sweaty neck. "Mmm," she whispered, before letting her tongue risk a taste of his salty skin. "I love you."

Breathlessly, Cain grunted. "Love you too, darlin'."

DG smiled into his neck, and closed her eyes.

* * *

_- Alta Torretta, Heart of the Shining City -_

* * *

Friday morning, Azkadellia took breakfast by herself in her sitting room. It was something she missed of the old life, though it was practically the only thing: the solitude, the quiet, private life the Sorceress had led. She hated the old Witch with every fiber of her body, but in that, they were the same. Sometimes, a girl just wanted to be alone.

At the very thought, there was a knock on the door. It was hurried, and erratic. Az smiled.

"Come in, DG," she called out.

The younger princess poked her head into the room. "Are you busy?" she asked, meekly.

Azkadellia shook her head, placing her glass of juice on the table. "No," she said. "Come in here, though. Don't leave the door open."

DG came into the room properly, and shut the door behind her. "Ooh, breakfast," she said gleefully, as she plopped down into the chair next to her sister, and studied the food on the table. She chose a roll, still slightly warm from the oven, and tore off a piece. Az watched as her sister stuffed the piece of bread into her mouth, nodding slowly in both acceptance and awe.

DG realized Az was watching her. "What?" she asked, after swallowing her bread.

"You're lucky." There was something strange in Az's voice.

DG cocked her head to one side. "What do you mean?"

Az cleared her throat, straightening in her chair before speaking. "You're lucky," she repeated. "After the conference last night, I went to your room."

The smile fell from DG's face, replaced by a look of fear, which she quickly quashed, trying to slip on a mask of interest, as if Az had just started up a conversation about the intricate tools used by the Qualdin warriors in their spear-making.

Azkadellia's lips curved into a smile as she watched panic flutter into her sister's eyes, despite the younger girl's attempt to make her face look innocent. "The guard didn't even know you weren't in your room, DG. I told him you were sleeping, when I came out. Where did you go?"

DG pursed her lips together, glancing nervously at the door, and then back at her sister. "I snuck out for a couple of hours. I wasn't back late. Just a little past midnight."

Az shook her head. "I don't even want to know how you managed to make it off the grounds, DG. And you shouldn't be putting Captain Cain in such a position, either. You could get him into a lot of trouble."

"How do you know it was Cain?" DG asked defensively, but when Az looked at her with skepticism, she relented. "Well no, that's good, because now I don't actually have to tell you about him myself." DG looked relieved. "And it's not going to happen again, Az. I just... I just wanted a couple of hours, that's all. I promise, no more sneaking off."

Az nodded, trying to look like she believed her sister. After a few moments of uncomfortable silence, DG found her voice again and took a deep breath. "Az?"

Azkadellia looked at her sister expectantly. "Yes?"

DG ran her tongue over her bottom lip nervously. "Um... can I ask you a question?"

Az rarely saw DG look as agitated as she did now. Reaching across the table, she took her sister's hand in hers, stopping DG from tugging at a loose thread on the tablecloth. "What is it?"

DG cleared her throat, and looked down into her lap. "Well..." she began, and slowly the words formed. "Is there anything I can do about... well... not getting in a..." DG paused, and dared to peek at her sister. Az was watching her with complete amusement. DG felt a surge of embarrassment. When she and Emily had had this conversation on the Other Side, she was thirteen, and it hadn't been this complicated. Maybe because then there hadn't _been_ anyone in her life, and the entire conversation had been hypothetical. Now, she knew her sister was thinking of Cain and she almost wanted to cry at the unfairness of it. "I don't want to get pregnant, Az," DG finished lamely. "Is there anything I can do?"

Azkadellia cleared her throat, and took a moment before she responded. "You could try not having sex."

DG sighed, and fell back into her chair. "Next."

Az smiled; somehow, DG always managed to make her smile. "You could try using your magic, but I don't think that you're as advanced as that yet. So you might try visiting an herbalist. I think most people use a fennel tea of sorts. I think the seeds are involved, but I'm not sure. You could ask Ambrose, I'm sure he'd know," she said teasingly, enjoying it immensely when DG's eyes widened and her jaw dropped.

"I am _not_ talking to Glitch about birth control, all right?" DG said fiercely. Az only nodded.

The conversation seemed at an end. With a sigh, forgetting about the spread of food on the table, DG got up and began to wander her sister's sitting room. Her fingers delicately traced over the ornaments on the tables, picking on or two up to turn over in her hands.

"How come you're making Jeb sit out in the hallway?" DG asked absently as she wandered over to the window.

"Sometimes I like to sit by myself," Az said with a shrug. When her sister's blue eyes shot towards her, Az gave a comforting smile. "I don't mind that you're here, DG, don't worry."

DG had moved out of Az's sight when she gave a startled cry. Az turned around, and froze when she saw DG standing over the desk, a piece of paper clutched in her hands. With her mouth opened in an 'O' of surprise, the younger princess turned the sheet over, revealing to Az what it said.

"Is this for real?" DG asked.

Az slowly nodded. "I'm afraid so."

DG turned the paper in her hands again, her eyes scanning every word and picture on it. Her heart had plummeted into her stomach, where it sank in a sickening feeling, a mixture of dread, uncertainty, and cold, hard understanding. She was shaking her head when it hit her.

No, he'd never lied to her. Not once, _ever._ But sometimes, DG realized, even a Tin Man didn't tell the whole truth.

When DG had gone from the room, Jeb came in from the hallway. Az had moved to the balcony, and was staring over the edge, out at the city beyond the courtyard. His steps slowed when he approached her. Out here, in plain view, he would not touch her, but oh, she wished he would.

"You were right," Az said softly when she heard him approach. "She's in love."

"So is he," was Jeb's only response. Az found she had nothing to say in response to this; their secret was only a secret because the relationship between them would only complicate things between Wyatt Cain and her sister; the affection and obvious desire she felt for Jeb was very little next to the unrestrained love that could easily be detected between the captain and the youngest princess. Jeb and Az would hide, simply because Cain and DG would be unable to.

"She left in a hurry," Jeb said carefully, referring to DG with a tactful change of subject.

Az only nodded, not turning to look at him. "Did she say anything?"

Jeb sighed. "No, but I saw what she took with her."

"You're going to be leaving soon, too, aren't you?" Az queried softly.

"Eventually. Not just yet."

Azkadellia nodded. This new problem was one that chilled her to her very core; this danger that presented itself to Azkadellia and Jeb both, though the strong emotions they both felt paled in comparison of even each other. He would leave her to fight this battle far away, and she would stay in the city and use the power of her position and her family to battle it from home.

It had dropped on them without warning, and the waves had already begun to rock them all.


	44. Chapter Forty Four

**Author's Note**: Thank you to all my readers, reviewers, and subscribers.

**Warning**: This chapter contains material that is rated **M**, **NSFW**, or my personal favourite, **NNA**.

* * *

**Of Light  
**

**Chapter Forty Four**

* * *

_- Alta Torretta, Heart of the Shining City -_**  
**

* * *

DG spent most of her afternoon simmering quietly by herself. To say she had been angry when she found out was an understatement; she didn't know why she'd had such a strong reaction – in all honesty, the news didn't surprise her. Cain would have learned this upon their return to Central City, perhaps sooner if one of the soldiers assisting in their rescue had spoken of it.

The date on the poster was two weeks old, but she hoped this conspicuous timing was coincidental. Though she'd calmed down over the hours since the accidental discovery of the poster, and she'd had no reason to become so incensed over the news, it _hurt_ that Cain hadn't told her himself.

Oh, she'd already figured out easily why he hadn't. He'd told her he was tracking down Longcoats; the finer details were irrelevant. He would have thought she had so much on her plate, the stress of daily life and now the added strain of their imprisonment and escape, their journey, and all the places the Old Road had yet to take them. Cain, though with honorable intentions, kept the news from her simply because he thought he'd try to keep her life a little sunnier a little longer.

It had taken a couple hours for that to sink in, and it was probably better for them both that she'd had the chance to cool off. Where as before she'd wanted to get her hands on him simply to stare him in the eyes and ask him how he could expect honesty without giving it; now, she only wanted to hide from him, because with the tempering of her rage had come the guilt, as it always came, to lay squarely on her shoulders.

DG was curled up in a chair in her darkened sitting room. Corporal Hass stood near the door, quietly pretending that he wasn't there. She wondered who had told Cain the news; had it been someone at the Armory? Had it been Jeb? DG looked down at the reward poster in her hands. Or had the Tin Man simply found out the way she had, with a casual glance, a double take, and then a soul-numbing... something, spreading throughout the body?

Cain was only a man. Only human. He was no immortal hero, and he was no emotionless shell, despite what he tried to show others; his gruff, hardened exterior might resemble his tin prison, but blood pumped through his veins and his heart beat in his chest like every other person in the Zone.

_I've depended on him too much,_ DG thought sadly. _I'm dragging him off on another adventure, leaning on him for every single problem I've got, and he's had this to worry about._

Cain had this on his shoulders, and _then_ she'd added the very sweet part of evil gathering in darkest corners, the rising of the Sorceress's army and blah blah blah. What the hell was wrong with her?

She wanted to be alone. The only problem was nearly impossible to shake Hass, and it was becoming a little disconcerting. Mostly because he'd discovered the unfortunate ability to blend into the wallpaper, and she would forget he was there. That wouldn't be so terrible, except for the bad ideas that always managed to sneak into her head when she thought she was alone.

It was in the quiet lull of the late afternoon that her feet began to carry her. The urge to stand and stretch her legs after her long period of sitting turned into a desire to take a walk; Hass was behind her, and he'd already stopped asking her where she was going. He knew as well as she did that it usually turned out to be a surprise.

She took the stairs because she had an unquenchable urge to climb; up and up and up until she was winded and her legs ached. Hass opened up the huge metal door for her, and she stepped through into the arboretum. A clinking sound cut through the still air, and the two followed the tapping until they found an old man bent over the insides of one of the irrigation pumps.

DG held up a hand for Hass to stop following her; crossing the last few steps, to where she found herself standing amid an ankle-high pile of what could only be described as 'irrigation pump guts'; plastic hoses, pieces of pipe, several odd looking valves.

The man bending over the pump stood straight at her approach; everything about him seemed somewhat illusionary... stooped, he'd seemed old and battered, but as he'd straightened his spine, he seemed to grow into a height that rivaled Cain's. His eyes were hazel and they cut through her easily, calculating and alert. His face... she'd gotten used to the feeling of '_Do I know you from somewhere_?' as old faces from the past consistently came out of the woodwork now, but it still always caught her off-guard when she'd notice for the first time.

"Whatcha doing?" DG asked him, nodding towards the pump.

"The Queen wants the arboretum restored; no point in trying to bring the trees back until we get the support systems up and running again," the old man said. He dropped the wrench he held in his hand, and it clattered to the ground. The sound sent a jitter straight up her back.

"Who will heal the trees?" she asked the gardener absently.

"Yourself, my lady, or perhaps the Princess Royal." The old man nodded pointedly at her.

She cocked a brow at him. "Have we met before?" she asked, finally. No point in beating around the bush.

The old gardener shook his head. "I've only started at the palace in the last few days, Highness. You might have met me on the grounds, or who knows... maybe you remember me from somewhere on the road." His eyes bore into her, speaking volumes without voice.

_I know most of what goes on around here._

DG shook the echo out of her head. "So you're a gardener?" she asked.

The old man shrugged. "I am a man of many talents, my lady." The eyes looking at her sparkled. "Although, I have to say that motor repair is not one of them. It looks like the entire system may have to be replaced before the trees can be healed." He waved his arm around, to encompass the entirety of the massive dome, filled with dead leaves and skeletal trees. "If you'll excuse me, I'll head into the office to file the proper requisitions."

"Wait," DG said. The old man stopped, and when he turned, he saw the young princess pushing up her sleeves. "Why don't you let me take a look at it?" she asked him.

An hour later, DG was sitting was sitting cross-legged on the floor of the arboretum, the heavy motor on her floor before her. She was covered in grime and her hands were streaked with rust. With a sigh, she hefted the thing over in her hands – the old man had been right, the motor was beyond repair, beyond salvation.

An errant lock of hair was hanging down into her eyes. She used the heel of her hand to push the stray hair away from her face, but it refused to tuck away, hanging in her face, mocking her. Eying it grumpily, she blew at it... and noticed someone walking towards her. The brim of his hat was pushed low, obscuring view of his face as he approached, and his duster brushed about his knees as he walked. Her heart leaped at the sight of him, and quickly went back to screwing the steel base plate to the mounting block. She didn't look up when he stopped beside her, didn't look up when he nudged her leg gently with the toe of his boot.

"Aren't you a sight," Cain said, clearly amused.

DG glared up at him. Yes, she'd stopped being angry with him, and no, it wasn't the man's fault that she was sitting on a dirty floor looking like the grungiest princess on either side of the rainbow, but did he really have to smirk at her like that? He held out a hand for her, and she took it, standing and brushing off the front of her clothes. She was _filthy _and he was nearly smiling about it, was that really fair?

"Not very princess-like behavior," he muttered low, leaning in so that only she could hear him; somewhere nearby, Hass was hovering, of this she was sure, but at the moment he seemed to have disappeared.

"Yeah, well... this princess is on her break," she said quietly, giving the front of her shirt another wipe with her hands. Already destroyed by grease, what did it matter? When she dared a peek into his eyes, he was watching her, as he always did; his icy blue hues seemed to darken when they met with hers, and he sighed, his mouth forming into that unhappy line that was so often there.

_He knows I know, _she told herself. Interesting... at least they'd have to waste no time. They always seemed to have precious little of it. Reaching into her pocket, she extracted the folded piece of paper. So strange that something as flimsy and destructible could be so volatile, and had had the power to disrupt everything. _Well,_ she reminded herself, _its not the paper's fault what got printed on it._

DG handed the poster to Cain. "You could've told me."

Cain growled low, and she found herself, in a very short span of seconds, being marched from one end of the arboretum to the other, out the glass door that led to the roof; the silence of the arboretum was immediately shattered, breaking into the whistle of wind and the drone of city life that went on so many stories below. Though he'd opened the world to her, she'd never felt so shut off from it as the glass door closed, leaving her and Cain standing alone on the roof.

"It wasn't important," he said as soon as the doors were closed.

DG's jaw dropped, some of her earlier anger returning. "Like _hell_ it wasn't important!" she found herself shouting. No one would hear them out here.

Cain gritted his teeth, looking down at her, a hand still on her arm. He was debating his words, as he always did, with a pained expression on his face. When he didn't speak right away, she turned away from him, his fingers slipping from their grip, letting her go easily. She went to the railing that encircled the viewing deck. The suns were beginning to sink in the distance; past the spires of the city, the first sun hovered dangerously over the mountains, teasing the world with the last few moments of full light.

"You've got enough to worry about, kiddo," he said. DG nodded, not turning back, having already known deep down somewhere that he was going to say exactly that.

"How can you expect honesty and not give it in return, Wyatt?" she demanded, turning around. Her blue eyes searched him, but found only that he avoided her gaze, as he thought of what to say. She didn't wait. "You've never lied to me before. Not ever."

"I didn't _lie_ to you," he growled. He moved to her, putting his hands on either side of her face so that she could look nowhere but straight at him. His eye contact didn't falter. "And I'm not about to start now." He placed a small, chaste kiss on her lips, as if to reaffirm this fact. She took this as a prompt to start asking questions.

"Is this the real reason you're working under Andrus?" she asked. His expression stayed stony, unchanged as he nodded. She chewed on her lip. This much, she'd guessed, that he was aiding in the search of one _specific_ Longcoat. A negligible detail, not a big deal. _I know now,_ she reminded herself, _there's no reason to drag out this fight. Act like a big girl, DG, time for the serious face. _

"When did he get out?" she asked softly.

"The day I left Finaqua with your sister and mother," he said. "Maybe a few days before. News was slow to travel, Jeb didn't know about it either, and he left Central City a few days after I did."

DG cleared her throat. "How does Jeb feel about all of this?"

Cain sighed, and let go of her face. His hands ran down her neck, over her shoulders; both knew they were in plain view of anyone who might be in the arboretum – namely Hass, and the old gardener – but neither seemed to care. The world had stopped just for them, so that they might have this moment while they teetered perilously on the edge, over which neither could see what was held in store for them.

"Jeb's angry," Cain said slowly. "Tryin' to swing it so he can ride out with us, but the general isn't giving in."

The corners of her mouth turned up into a small smile, remembering all too well the look Andrus had given her when she'd seen him. Andrus wouldn't be favoring Jeb any time soon, but the powers of Cain persuasion would kick in eventually, of that she had no doubt, and she hoped _kick _wasn't an operative word.

Shaking her head free of where it had wandered, she got back to the important issue. She wasn't even going to ask him what the man had still been doing imprisoned in the manner that he was, that was personal between Cain and his son, somewhere she had no business treading. So, instead... "Well... how did he... I mean, who released him?" Her brain was thrown back forcefully, to the ruined shell of his former home on the shores of a sluggish creek, to the day when _she_ had released _him._

Cain felt her small hands grip onto the lapels of his coat. His arms encircled her then, pulling her close. "We don't know, DG," he said, his voice low, quiet. "But it's one of the things I'm gonna find out."

She leaned her forehead against his chest, still holding him by his duster. The sigh that escaped her was heavy, her shoulders sagging; it signaled to him that she had nothing left to say, that she was done. It hadn't gone as badly as either of them had expected, and he was holding her in plain view of anyone, which felt like a relief, though she didn't know why.

She wasn't going to ask what would happen if the capture didn't take place before it was time for her to leave again, for she knew the answer to that, as surely as she knew her own name. Cain would quietly place himself beside her, and they would continue on as planned. He'd let someone else finish it, making his choice of where he was most needed. Though he'd never say it, he needed _her_ as well; needed her to let him go, to be there when he returned from this – hopefully – final resolution.

Cain's strong embrace relaxed, and he allowed himself to press his face into her hair, to kiss her there. "You figured it out a little faster than I suspected you would, darlin'," he said, and she could feel him smiling.

DG pulled away, glad that things were okay enough that even Wyatt Cain could manage a smile. "How much faster?" she asked suspiciously.

"I didn't think we'd be havin' this conversation until after I'd got back," he said, letting his smile fade into a smirk. He let her go, noticing that she'd begun to frown, but calling no attention to it. Inside her head, DG's mood had shifted.

_Yes, remind me that you leave tomorrow_, she couldn't help but think bitterly. She was completely accepting of what he was trying to accomplish, but in her head she could still pout about it.

Cain had walked over to the door, holding it open for her and ushering her back inside. A closed-in feeling settled inside of her quickly, being inside of the palace reminding her of life on this side of the glass, another dinner to attend, another evening sitting in a dusty study slipping lightly on fragrant Evian wine, trying to absorb everything people said around her. Even the thought of it was exhausting, and she wanted nothing more than her bed... well, maybe her bed with a certain Tin Man in it to cuddle with, but even as a princess, she couldn't have everything.

They walked down the main walkway straight towards the elevator; Hass picked up behind them wordlessly. As they passed the old man, who was busily sweeping up the piles of dead leaves that covered the entire floor, Cain grabbed her by the arm, forcing her to stop.

"Workin' hard?" Cain asked the old gardener. Something in his voice caused DG to look up at him curiously; his face was a stony, solemn mask, and the edge in his tone was mirrored in his eyes. DG eyed the old gardener, who was looking back at Cain, seemingly amused.

"As hard as these old bones will let me," the old man said easily. He leaned a bit on the handle of his broom, and something inside her head clicked into place, the echoing voice she'd heard before coming back clearer.

"Jowan," she said suddenly. Cain looked at her, raising an eyebrow in surprise.

Jowan smiled, and bowed his head. "I'm humbled you remember me, your Highness."

She looked from Cain to Hass, knowing she was the last to figure this out. Honestly, she was going to have to start paying better attention. Where was her brain half of the time, anyway? DG turned back to the old man.

"How did you escape?" she asked.

Jowan shrugged his shoulders. "Same as you did, my lady, escaped out the supply tunnel. It was easy to slip out in the uproar you caused." There was a friendly gleam in his eye as he continued. "Wound up here, in good old Central. Managed to plead my case and get on here; mind you, it wasn't hard," he said with a chuckle. "Palace is hiring on like crazy. Needs extra hands for everything, a place this big." He smiled at her then, and despite his age, his smile was strangely charming. DG found herself smiling back.

"I'm glad you found us," she said earnestly. "I'll make sure your requisitions for new equipment go through as fast as possible." She didn't know who she was going to have to talk to, but she figured Glitch would know, he seemed to know everything that went on in the palace. She walked away, Cain and Hass walking steadily behind her. She didn't like the distance she had to keep from Cain as they walked the hallway back down to her room, though it was respectable, it felt like too far.

He leaned in close to her when they reached her door. "I'll be back this evenin' around ten, make sure you're back from dinner by then," he told her. "I want to say a proper goodbye tonight, I'll be leavin' at first sunrise tomorrow." His lips brushed against her ear, and she sighed, nodding. She'd agree to anything, if it meant a chance to be in his arms again before he was gone.

Later, Azkadellia came to help her get ready. It was becoming a habit of the sisters, for the older to help the younger. DG felt more comfortable with Az anyway, when the corsets were involved. If she needed help getting into her own underwear, she'd rather have her sister hauling away at the ties than one of the gossipy ladies' maids.

"When do you plan on telling Mother and Father?" Az asked. Her tongue was poking out the corner of her mouth as she maneuvered the last hook into place. When she finally stepped away, DG let out a shallow breath of relief.

"Soon-ish," DG said. "I'll probably tell them while he's out of town so they can have time to digest the news before he comes back."

Az stepped onto the other side of the dressing screen to allow DG to shimmy into her dress in private. "You don't want him to be there with you when you tell them?" she asked.

DG peeked up over the top of the screen. "No," she said firmly. "I don't want to embarrass him, and I _don't_ want to give him any doubts about it in case Mother and Ahamo aren't okay with it."

Az began straightening the bodice of her gown, running her fingers over the sheer material nervously. "Do you think they're going to have a problem with it? Captain Cain is an important individual. He might be a bit older than you, but they must be able to see how loyal he is to you."

DG came out from behind the screen; her gown was ivory, with a green sash around the waist. "Is that what you'd call it, Az? Loyalty?"

Azkadellia frowned when she saw something darken in her sister's eyes. "Among several other things," she managed to say, waving her hand and watching as her sister's hair swept away from the her round face, curling becomingly down her back.

The dinner, held in one of the larger dining rooms and filled with more people than DG had yet encountered at one function, was loud, proper, and boring. So many conversations swirled around her that she had a hard time latching onto a single one. People she didn't know kept trying to grab her attention, but she only ever smiled weakly, answered in as few syllables as possible. She was earning the reputation of being shy, she'd heard, and didn't mind one bit. Let everyone in the O.Z. think she was shy, maybe then she'd have to talk to fewer people, or at the very least would have a good excuse to avoid anyone who made eye contact with her.

Azkadellia tried her best to help her out. Over the dinner table, every move DG made was carefully studied by Az. Every so often, her sister's voice would cry out inside her mind.

_"No, the fork further on the left! Posture! Remember to smile, you're looking bored. Posture! Hold it by the stem, DG."_

By the time dinner was over, DG had a headache. The next person that _graciously_ touched her arm to get her attention was going to get a fork in their hand, of that she was sure. As soon as she could, she slipped away from everyone and made her way to her room. Hass was smiling sympathetically in the elevator, and it took most of what was left of her patience to bite her tongue and not tell him where to take his sympathy _and_ his smile.

"Hallway," she said shortly, before tacking on, "please, I mean." She might be grumpy, but there was no reason to order him around like he was a dog. He nodded at her, and took his normal position outside her door. She didn't lock it, and barely made it to the sofa, where she laid down in her evening gown and promptly fell asleep.

She was jostled awake when she felt herself being lifted. The first few moments passed and she thought she might be dreaming, but then she caught the scent of the strong body that held her, the familiarity of leather and gun oil, the faint tinge of dust and sweat. She nuzzled her nose into his neck, wrapping her arms around him with a loud yawn. He carried her into her bedroom, and shut the door behind them with his foot.

"How was your nap?" Cain asked her, sounding amused.

"Dreamless," she mumbled against him. "It was nice."

He chuckled. "No more strange memories findin' their way into that pretty head of yours?"

"Nuh-uh. Just me in there now."

"Thats still plenty of trouble," he said. Her head jerked up, and she put a hand on his jaw, turning his head so she could look into his eyes. The light around them was weak, but his eyes shone, blue and bright. "Think you can stand up?" he asked her. She hummed an affirmation, and found herself placed on her feet.

Cain moved behind her, his fingers brushing over the back of her neck, underneath her hair, before moving to the sash of her dress, untying the material as if slowly unwrapping a present. "You shouldn't sleep in your clothes," he whispered. When the sash was untied, he began to work at the buttons. DG let her eyes fall closed, leaning her head back, focusing on the movement of his fingers, on his calm, even breathing. She knew his eyes were burning into her, and she could swear she almost felt the sear of them on her skin. How could such minimal contact be so intoxicating?

The dress slid off of her easily, less of a fight to get out of it than to get in. His thumbs brushed over her shoulders as he pushed the sleeves down off her arms. She laughed out loud when he had no trouble disentangling her from the corset; he seemed to manage it easier than he had when faced with her bra. When he released her from the cage, she moaned in relief; his lips immediately closed on her shoulder at the sound, gently biting down on her flesh. His hardness was pressed into her back now, a delicious tease, telling her he wanted her as much as she wanted him. She reached back to place a hand on the back of his head, running her fingernails through his short hair, over his scalp.

Cain's hands began to massage the parts of her that had been locked in the corset, sliding up from her hips, over her breasts, then down over her belly. Naked from the waist up, wearing only a half-slip and a scrap of lace that could barely be called underwear, she was merely clay beneath his skilled hands. Her head fell back against his shoulder as his calloused hands traced her breasts again, her nipples pebbling as his fingers skimmed over them. His mouth worked tirelessly against her shoulder and neck, sucking and biting hard enough to leave marks come morning – his mark, so that in his absence, she'd still be his. She knew that even in death, she'd always be his. She wasn't made for anyone else.

Impatient to touch him, she turned in his arms. Before waking her, he'd removed his jacket, and his hat was also absent; he stood before her, torso covered by only in his shirtsleeves, a row of small buttons standing between her and his hard chest. Before she could start on the buttons, however, his mouth closed on hers, pulling her up to him in a passionate, soul-searing kiss. As his tongue touched hers, sending electric shocks straight to her very core, all semblance of her control was lost. She tugged the shirt loose from his pants and started on his fly. With a groan, he walked her backwards towards the bed. When her knees hit the edge of the mattress, he took both of her hands in his, and kissed her palms.

"DG," he said slowly. "There is a guard standin' in the hallway."

She frowned. "That's a whole room away!" she exclaimed, pointing at the closed door that led to the sitting room. "You're leaving me tomorrow for_ weeks_! Now lay down in this bed with me and fuck me, damn it!" Her cheeks inflamed with her profanity, and her eyes fell away, uncertain.

Cain cocked his scarred eyebrow in amusement. "Was that an order?"

DG nodded solemnly, realizing that he still held her hands and his grip on her wrists was tightening. She found herself yanked roughly against him, and a bruising kiss crushed down upon her lips. She fought his force with her own, pressing into him hard, running her tongue over his when it plunged into her mouth.

The rest happened quickly; somewhere in a fray of clutching limbs and small moans and falling clothes, she was lain down between the sheets on her stomach, her Tin Man spreading his broad chest over her back, his sensuous lips finding her shoulder again. His arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her up onto her knees, a heavy hand between her shoulder blades as he pushed deep into her, her body stretching to admit him with a shudder of pure pleasure. She rocked back against him as his long, slow strokes created a glorious friction that left her mewling quietly; she pressed her face into the pillow to stifle the sounds she couldn't stop herself from making. A coil somewhere deep inside of her was beginning to tighten; each inward thrust caused her vision to haze around the edges.

Cain withdrew to roll her over onto her back, entering her again quickly; his earlier slow pace turning frantic as she began to arch up against him, whispering in his ear dirty little nothings, each eliciting a deep rumble from him. Her hands had found their way to his shoulders, a death grip anchoring them together. Each snap of his hips drove her up as he leaned over her, placing hot, nipping kisses on her lips, each melting into the next until she was falling, the coil breaking with a burst of light behind her eyes; her fingernails dug deep into his skin, almost enough to draw blood. The pain of it coupled with the rhythmic spasms of her inner muscles pushed him over into oblivion with her, and he collapsed atop her with a quiet, panting moan.

He pulled out, falling down onto the bed beside her, breathless and exhausted. DG curled into him immediately, seeking his warmth, wanting these last few moments; he couldn't stay, that she knew, though she wondered if it was as hard for him to tear away from her as it was for her to watch him leave. Tears were springing to her eyes before she knew it.

"Hey, hey," he said softly when he felt her body stiffen; his hands slid up and down her back comfortingly as she struggled to regain control of her emotions... not a single tear fell, but the threat hung palpably between them. "It's just a few weeks," he told her when her shoulders had stopped shaking. "A few weeks, and you'll see me again."

DG nodded, knowing he was right. A few weeks, two or maybe three... a voice in the back of her head, a wisp of a memory, cried out. _It was only three days to return the Emerald... there and back, that's all it was supposed to be._

_But if it hadn't been for the entire mess, how long would Wyatt and I have danced around this? _It was there, it had been all along, but... if everything had gone according to plan, and he'd come back to Finaqua, how long would the two of them have hoped and dreamed and miscommunicated? She snuggled deeper into his embrace, listening to his heartbeat slowly return to normal.

_Would I have made it as far as calling him Wyatt, or would I still be calling him Mr. Cain?_

Their realizations had caused them to fall in love... would that have happened, if not for the Emerald? And... did it really matter? Some poor fool would still bumble upon an old tin suit in the woods, and release the man within... or, worse, someone with intention had opened the suit... and because of that, he would still be leaving her, no matter the what-ifs that came before.

DG tightened her grip on him. The faster Cain found Zero, the better.

Eventually, she had to stop thinking; she was getting depressed and Cain had to leave. She wasn't going to like having a lover if it meant she spent every night alone. Their time alone on the road had her hooked to the warm safety of his arms while she slept.

"Stay in bed," he told her firmly, when she made the move to extract herself from the sheets. He'd turned on the lamp to find his clothes, and hungrily, she watched him dress. "This is exactly how I want to remember you while I'm gone."

DG felt herself blush. She was sitting up, cross-legged, the sheet wrapped around her front; when he finished buttoning his shirt, she looked down at her hands, clasped in her lap... suddenly, her fingernails seemed quite interesting. When he sat down on the bed beside her, he ran his hand over her hair, ghosting over her back, stopping over the small of her back, resting on her naked flesh.

"Promise me you're going to be careful," she found herself saying, and she refused to look at him.

Wyatt found this unacceptable, and put two fingers on her chin to guide her eyes to his. "'I'm gonna be as careful as I can, sweetheart," he said slowly. She nodded, not able to give him much else. With a sigh, he kissed her forehead. "Now you promise me you're not gonna take off somewhere."

Her eyebrows shot up. "That's what you're worried about?"

His lips had straightened into a firm line. "DG," he said carefully; she managed to smile at him to reassure him.

"I won't take off anywhere," she said. He nodded, accepting her word, then cupped her jaw with his big hand, his thumb caressing her cheek. Despite herself, she nuzzled into the touch, closing her eyes. There were no tears now, she was beyond crying. Dull, numbing acquiescence, and a brave little face was all she had to give him.

When he kissed her, her eyes slipped closed; her hand settled over his. The kiss was simple, but not without passion; for a moment, each drew on the breath that the other had to give, memorizing the feel and taste that would call him home. There were words to say, but they were conveyed silently, brushed over her lips with a gentle sweep of his tongue before he pulled away. She wanted to say it, but found it just wouldn't come, as if the time for talking had passed.

Wyatt's blue eyes burned into her as hers searched his for reassurance; he offered her a half smile, one more caress of his thumb down her cheek, before pushing himself away from the bed. He didn't turn around, only walked with purpose; when the door had clicked softly shut behind him, she fell back onto the bed and covered her head with a pillow, craving sleep that she knew would not come.


	45. Chapter Forty Five

**Author's Note**: Thank you to all my readers, reviewers, and subscribers. This chapter is dedicated to Queen Isabela.

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**Of Light  
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**Chapter Forty Five**

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_- Alta Torretta, Heart of the Shining City -_**  
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Saturday morning dawned gray and dull, and Azkadellia woke surprised she'd slept at all. Somewhere in the deepest recesses, wisps of a dangerous dream crept along the edges of her consciousness, but when she tried to grasp at it, the misted fragments slipped away.

She needed no reminder of how lonely today would be. Even the weather seemed to be mirroring the mood of Alta Torretta. DG would be in a complete slump, and would act out by being difficult and rebellious. She'd ditch her bodyguard, and wind up underneath of a vehicle in one of the lower level garages, hiding and working on a broken suspension at the same time. Or something equally as strange and crazy. With DG, there was usually no telling, especially when she didn't care or she was using her imagination. She'd always been that way...

Az smiled, though it was faint and short lived. Jeb, just as impulsive as her sister and without the chains of royalty, would have left with his father. Though she was prepared for this, she hated the sinking feeling she got in her stomach. She should be chastising herself for getting attached, for trusting and for feeling such simpering, human emotions; instead, shamefully, she was close to wallowing.

She was going to miss him, and wasn't sure when or if she'd see him again. She was done processing the information, she'd done her best to digest it and move on, and yet somehow still... something inside of her was yanking impatiently, begging for attention. _Notice!, _it cried out. _Care! Feel, damn it!_

Caring, feeling... all too hard. It would be so much easier to just forget, to move on. There wasn't time for pining, or for moping, the kingdom needed guidance and the royal family made their sacrifices to give it... she needed to get herself under control... she couldn't let anyone notice, and she'd have to shake DG out of a mood later on as it was. Logically, there was no time for herself.

A chamberlain stood over her breakfast, reciting the days activities, and making sure to punctuate each event with individual importance; to her, however, it was all just come and go, smile and wave. _Shaking hands and kissing babies,_ as DG so succinctly put it. Az tried her best not to yawn as she ate a small bit, and drank her tea. Soon enough, the chamberlain realized that he didn't have her attention; he closed his book with a huff, and left.

Az's hands began to tremble, and she put down her tea, worried she'd dump it onto her own lap; she stared down at her breakfast, most of it uneaten; the thought of putting any thing else in her stomach made her want to throw up. A maid was hovering uncertainly around the fringes of the room, waiting for her to stand, to dress and get ready for the day. But the princess only stared at the table, wanting to crawl back into bed.

She'd wanted to crawl back into bed the day they'd left Finaqua. _I should have... we all should have._

Forcing herself to stand wasn't as hard as she'd expected it to be, and neither was starting her day; all in all, once you started moving, it was surprisingly easy to just go off the momentum... _Just ignore that nagging feeling deep inside, and it will go away_, she told herself, and she believed. By the time her ladies' maid had tied up her corset, she'd gotten her breathing under control, and by the time she'd finished buttoning herself into her dress, the shaking had stopped.

"A car will be waiting downstairs, my lady," the maid said, and left the room.

A car. An appearance... doing what? She hadn't been paying attention.

With a sigh, Azkadellia finished dressing, putting on a coat and gloves. She could feel the cold coming, better than DG could; the autumn was closer now to the beginning of winter than it was to the end of summer. She didn't look forward to winter in the city, where people seemed to make up for the lonely cold by finding solace in whatever loud, unhinged way they could. Though the Northern Palace was her true home, Azkadellia hated the frigid cold, the bitter Ozian winters.

There was a handbag somewhere. _Somewhere_... Az went back into the bedroom, rummaging on the dresser top, on the chairs. She went to the desk and rolled the top back, pushing aside papers and books... nothing. And then...

"Looking for this?"

Azkadellia whirled around, dark hair flying with the fast motion, to see Jeb leaning casually in the door frame, holding the bag out to her. Her eyes widened as she took the bag wordlessly, watching him warily.

"Thank you," she managed, taking a stab at politeness. Her hands had begun to shake again.

"You ready to go?" he asked her; it was then she noticed he was dressed in the uniform of the palace guard, something he'd been refusing since their arrival in Central City, in the dead of the night. The smirk that crossed his face infuriated her. Her lips settled into a scowl, curving unhappily downwards.

"I see you're still here," she said curtly. Jeb only nodded, watching her with an amused twinkle in his hazel eyes. Taking a deep breath, she tugged at the bottom of her coat nervously. "Is Andrus still denying your transfer request?" she asked him, managing to keep a straight face while looking him in the eye.

"No, I stopped filing them."

Az's eyebrows perked up, despite her need to stay firm. "You don't want to accompany your father?" she asked, this time cautiously.

The smile on Jeb's face broke into a full grin, one that always seemed to melt her resolve; though she tried to steel herself, she was quickly falling the way she always did when he was around. "Oh, I'll go if he ever needs me to," he said, with a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders, as if this, the recapture of the Witch's cruelest general, didn't matter. When he looked at her, there was something deeper in his eyes, unspoken but ever present. "But right now, I've got other responsibilities."

Az opened her mouth to speak, but found the words she had ready weren't the ones she wanted to say.

_Tell him you're glad he's staying. Tell him you're happy to see him. Tell him... don't tell him... _The back and forth inside her head made her wonder if there wasn't someone else hiding in there, deep down.

So instead, she nodded, accepting of what he'd told her. That he was going to stay with her until he was called. He wouldn't chase Zero into the wilderness, wouldn't comb every corner of the Zone with his own eyes. He'd stay in Central City with her, because somewhere along the line, it had become the two of them. She'd been tossed a line, when she was floundering in the wake of her possession, when hers was the face that every person in the kingdom associated with misery and horror; she'd been given a new chance, and he would be behind her while she tried and gave. And gave... and gave.

"Are you ready to go?" he asked her, interrupting her thoughts. With a weak smile, she nodded. Her hand touched her hair once, in its elaborate, heavy up-do. Jeb stepped towards her, and with an encouraging twist to his lips, took her hand and gave it a comforting squeeze. "You look fine. Don't worry." He nodded towards the sitting room, towards the door to the hallway.

Az was quiet for a long moment, before she nodded, and walked past him, thinking he'd fall into step behind her; instead, she found herself toppling against him into the door frame as his arm shot out to grab her around the waist. With a yelp, and the tiniest hint of a laugh, the princess shoved him away as she straightened herself. Tugging at the edges of her coat again, she found herself smiling at him indulgently as he leaned against the door frame once again, grinning at her.

"Shall we?" she said hesitantly.

He winked at her. "Come on, your Highness," he said, holding out an arm for her to take. "Let's go play with the big kids."

* * *

_- Alta Torretta, Heart of the Shining City -_

* * *

DG found that life at Alta Torretta was a series of small compromises. She wore (literally) breathtakingly beautiful but restrictive gowns chosen by either her mother or her sister, and she got to wear whatever she wanted during time that was solely hers – which wasn't often, but pointing that out did little good. She studied language and diction at her mother's request, just so she could practice self-defense with Glitch. She helped to entertain guests and impress big shots during supper almost _every_ evening, and got private, twice weekly brunches with _just_ her family, without even a serving staff. She'd felt that one was her greatest triumph.

She fell into her bed exhausted every night, and dragged herself unwillingly from it every morning; she learned early that being magically removed from the bed by Azkadellia was an unpleasant experience. Mostly, she didn't dream, but when she did, it was the dream of the Papay fields, and of Wyatt Cain standing under her tree.

God, she missed him. Not like she'd miss her shadow, if she ever managed to ditch him for long enough, and not like she began to miss her sister when the days ran too long. Not like she missed her nurture units, a quiet desperation in her heart that echoed with a tiny voice. This was... pain. Opaque and tangible, and at times so overwhelming that she hid from it, forcing Cain far from her mind so that the thought of him wouldn't consume her.

"You're thinking about him again," Az would say too often, as if she knew everything. Did something show? Sitting crossed-legged on Azkadellia's bed, DG touched her own cheek. Her sister was smiling at her.

"Have you told Mother and Father yet?" Az asked delicately, as if she'd just pointed out to her sister she'd had something in her teeth. _Moving on_... DG thought with a smile.

She shook head. "Not quite sure how to bring that one up," she said with a sigh. "Oh, by the way, you don't have to go find me a prince, I got me a Tin Man?"

"The captain is much more than just a Tin Man, DG," Az told her quietly, and from across the room, DG felt her heart swell in appreciation for her sister. "He's a hero, and so are you. They might be... well, I won't lie." Here Azkadellia paused, and DG could feel herself inwardly flinching. Avoiding her parents was her only plan at the moment; every time she saw them, she was afraid the secret would fall straight out of her mouth if she tried to open it to speak. DG hid her face in her hands as her sister continued to speak. "They aren't going to be happy about it. I don't think they imagined this would happen."

"In my defense, I didn't either," DG pointed out. "Neither of us did. It just... okay, maybe everyone but us did."

"I think Daddy is already suspicious," Az said, a tiny smile gracing her pretty lips.

DG couldn't help the thoughts that began to crank through her brain. If her parents found out some _other_ way, then she wouldn't have to tell them. Az, though, seemed to be able to read her mind, because her sister was shaking her head at her before the thoughts had even finished.

"You need to tell them yourself. Don't let court gossip ruin it for you."

Oh yes, the _gossip. _She knew enough from living in a small town, gossip was an evil, malicious entity, something that could grow and feed like fire, a living, all consuming being. She didn't want Cain to come back to Central City to find everyone whispering behind their hands. He wanted to keep it private, simply to be able to hide behind anonymity while he was on the road. That could possibly be destroyed, if he was suddenly proclaimed as courting the princess. They'd be outed eventually, and probably prematurely, she knew it, and knew he did too. There would be more trouble from the Queen and Ahamo, if they found out she was sneaking around. Honesty, and all that...

It took her another two days to talk herself into it. She paced ten minutes outside the audience chamber, knowing her mother and father sat alone within. She'd waited for this opportunity, why was she balking? Hass was standing along the wall, and though her back was turned to him, she knew he was smiling at her, knowing exactly what she was fretting over.

Finally... "Wait out here, I'll only be a few minutes," she said, straightening her shoulders.

Hass nodded. "Good luck."

She wanted to sneer at him, to give him some smart ass comment in return, but she found her mouth had become surprisingly dry. Swallowing hard, trying to chase away the fear and doubt that had settled somewhere in her throat, she knocked on the door, three hard raps.

The guard waiting in the audience chamber opened the door for her, bowing a greeting. "Princess."

It just didn't sound right coming from anyone else's mouth...

DG chased the guard from the room; he was more understanding than most, giving her a sympathetic, indulgent smile as he repositioned himself on the other side of the door, out in the hallway. As the door swung shut, she made eye contact with Hass, and for the very smallest second, she thought she saw a glimmer of encouragement somewhere in his face. Maybe it wasn't there, maybe she didn't catch it fast enough, but it was gone too soon and the door was closed.

"My angel," her mother was saying in the soft, willowy voice that was so much like a beautiful breath of wind.

Both of her parents were staring directly at her, their welcoming gazes all too much. DG cleared her throat, swinging her hands nervously. It was getting late, and the lamps were lit; her mother was sitting behind the desk, adding her signature to an ever growing pile of documents. Her father was stretched out lazily on a suede chaise lounger, a glass of what she assumed was some sort of Ozian spirit, the liquid clear and the glass half-empty. He smiled, and motioned for her to take a seat on the sofa opposite him.

"On your way?" she asked him, nodding at the glass.

The smile widened, and he sat up straight. "Already there, sweetheart."

_Oh, yes, because that makes things so much easier,_ she thought with an immediate scowl. That was just wrong. She pointed a finger directly at her father, and his eyebrows shot up into his unruly blonde hair. "Call me 'sweetheart' again, Seeker, and you're the guinea pig during my next lesson with Tutor," she snapped, suddenly nervous again.

The Queen looked up from her papers at her daughter's sudden outburst. "DG, what's wrong?"

DG opened her mouth slowly, and then closed it again. "Nothing is _wrong,_ Mother," she said carefully. She turned back to her father, looking contrite, or trying her best, at least. "Sorry, Dad. Just... I have a name, could you please use it? No one else does." There, that sounded like a good enough reason... did he buy it?

Ahamo smiled at his daughter, and pushed himself to standing. DG expected him to sway, but he stood firm on his feet. Not as drunk as she'd thought... maybe it was for the best. She didn't want to tell an ill-tempered, inebriated ex-Seeker his baby girl had been rolling around in the forest undergrowth with a certain semi-retired Tin Man.

"She looks guilty," Ahamo observed. "You used to look at me like that when you were a little girl." He studied her for a moment, and then his face took on a strange, impassive mask. "What did you do, DG?" His tone was firm, no nonsense.

"Why do you think I did something?" she asked, almost laughing at the absurdity of the face he was giving her. She studied him back for a moment, giving him a good look-over, trying to emulate Wyatt at his most calculating. She even managed the same pained look he got before speaking. "Fine. You're right. I've got to be honest." DG nodded, affirming to herself. She looked at her father, continuing to nod.

"You've got to be honest about what, DG?" her mother asked. She rose from her chair, coming around the desk. Despite herself, DG found herself gazing in awe at the way her mother moved, the even, careful steps. Her mother was prompting her, looking at her expectantly.

DG bit her lip. "I've fallen in love," she said low, not knowing what else to say. Her brain threw around words... dating, courting, boyfriend, lover, and for some God awful reason the term _knockin' boots_... none seemed to fit and for the life of her, she couldn't make her mouth form his name.

The Queen gave a small gasp, which caused DG's shoulders to slump right away. Her father smirked, an indulging gesture that made her angry... Hank had given her that smirk once, when she was around fifteen. Come to think of it, she might have proclaimed the exact same thing, only it was over the shell of a wreck of an old motorcycle she'd found in a junkyard. That had worked out all right... she and that motorcycle had had a good relationship.

"Your bodyguard? The... the shapeshifter." Ahamo waved absently at the door to the hall. "Him?"

DG laughed. "No, no," she shook her head. She put her hands on her hips, looked at the floor. The design on the tile was intricate, beautiful... "No, not Hass. Oh my God, no." She laughed again. That was kind of funny... oh, she was too, too nervous.

Her mother made a small sound in the back of her throat. "Who is it, angel?"

DG closed her eyes, and ran a hand through her hair. When she opened her eyes, both her mother and her father were watching her. "Do you really not know?" she asked. Her mother quirked her head to the side slightly, subconsciously turning an ear towards her daughter; Ahamo's face, however, hardened before the words left his daughter's mouth. "It's um," she said, coughing a little, "it's Captain Cain."

The stillness that followed was something she doubted she'd ever forget. DG looked at her mother; the Queen had closed her eyes, and was taking a slow, calm breath. When she opened her eyes, the Queen's face was unreadable, but certainly not unhappy; DG took this as a good sign. And then... a very unfriendly growl.

"Oh, you think so, do you?" Ahamo grumbled.

DG considered her father for a moment, but when she spoke, her voice was stronger than she'd anticipated. "Yeah, I do, actually."

"I must say," her mother said slowly, holding up a hand and causing Ahamo to take a step back. He glared at his daughter, angry, but still listened to his wife. Interesting... _I'm gonna have to learn that trick_, DG thought. The Queen continued, "This is certainly unexpected, DG."

"Yeah, it was," DG admitted, thinking of the 'certainly unexpected' first kiss in his prison cell, of the 'certainly unexpected' clandestine moment in the thicket before the Longcoat run-in. Closing her eyes, she shook it off, sure that now was not the time to think about such things. "Unexpected, definitely. But it's not a bad thing." She looked at her mother beseechingly. "Is it?"

Before her mother could answer, her father spoke up. "Is this why he's agreeing to go with you, after the Eclipse?" Ahamo asked. His fists were on his hips now, and his voice was strained as he tried to control his tone.

"He would have gone anyway," DG said, more certain of this than of anything else. She tried to ignore her father now; she'd known that he'd be upset... he wouldn't be her father if he wasn't, and somewhere deep down she was glad he was concerned enough to feel so angry. _Way _deep down... up in her head, though, she was just as angry back. But she bit her tongue, not wanting that fight.

"What are your intentions, DG?" her mother asked.

DG blinked once. Was she really being asked what _she_ wanted, what _she_ intended to do? She thought about it, unprepared. "Well," she said slowly, "we want to keep it a secret for as long as possible. We can announce it later. After... everything."

Her mother nodded. "It would certainly be joyous news for the country to hear, after so much darkness."

DG shook her head. Was she hearing right? _Joyous_ news?

"I don't like it."

DG turned to her father. "You don't have to like it. He's a good man, and he's the reason I'm alive. The reason I got _anywhere_ the week before the Eclipse was because of him." She remembered back to the tavern in the Realm of the Unwanted, the standoff between Cain and the Seeker. "This is my choice," she said, and took a small step back. She was done... what else could she say?

She was ushered from the room less than ten minutes later. Ahamo had not given a single inch, and she doubted he would for a while; after all, her stubbornness had to come from somewhere. Her mother was more accepting, though she had yet to figure out why that was. Perhaps because she trusted her daughter, perhaps because she knew the inevitable when she saw it.

Hass was waiting for her, and fell into perfect step a few feet behind her as she headed towards the lift, her own room, and her bed. Once they were safely encased within the elevator, and the doors were closed, he spoke up. "How did they take it?"

DG rolled her eyes, but found herself smiling. "Like parents."

* * *

_- Beyond the Walls of Central City -_

* * *

Wyatt Cain left the stable near dusk. It was a one-mile walk into Central City, but he'd been moving around the stable long enough, settling the mare, old Juniper, in the rented box stall; walking into the city was not a problem. With his pack over his shoulder and his hat pushed low, not a single person bothered him as he made his way down the Brick Route towards shining beacon that was home.

Tipping his hat at the gate guard as he passed, he shrugged his pack tighter as he entered the city. It was magic hour, and the streets were beginning to get crowded. He was stopped twice, once by an old drunk who remembered him fondly, and once by a young woman who giggled too much, asking him for directions. By the time he reached his building, he'd bumped shoulders with more people than he'd _seen_ in the last week.

A shower was on his mind, and a change of clothes. Then to track down his son, and visit DG quickly; after that, he'd worry about food and sleep. The next day was already dedicated to filing reports, sitting at his desk at the Armoury; somewhere, he'd need to squeeze in at least two meetings.

Four days, maybe five, until he was on the road again. It wasn't much, but it was better than nothing.

The apartment was dark, and tinier than he remembered. Being out in the open for so long did something to his perceptions, maybe. He tossed the pack down on the floor, put his hat and duster down on the table, and made immediately for the bathroom. When he'd stepped into the shower, the hot water on his skin was a blessing sent straight from the gods on his aching muscles; out in the far reaches, inns and running water had been few and far between.

He stayed under the stream of hot water longer than he'd meant to. Swathing a towel around his waist, he made his way into the bedroom dresser for a clean set of clothes. He'd just hitched his pants over his hips and buttoned them when there was impatient knock at the door.

Smirking, he shrugged his arms into a shirt, leaving it hanging open as he stepped into the small kitchen. He'd expected to have to hunt Jeb down, but it seemed his son was a little more up to speed on things than he'd imagined. With a surge of pride, he unlatched the door, and pulled it open. "Didn't take you long, Jeb," he grumbled, though his tone was good-natured. When he looked up, he was surprised to see DG grinning at him.

"Wow, Cain. Just so you know, your Tin Man senses? _Way _off on that one. I figured you'd smell me at the end of the hallway," she teased, and her eyes twinkled mischievously at the thought that she'd gotten something by him.

Cain gave her a patronizing look, before his eyes steeled and shot towards Hass who was standing against the wall, trying his very best to suppress a smile. Fighting down a growl, the Tin Man couldn't have been less impressed as he snapped at the corporal. "You left the palace grounds with her?"

The corner of Hass's mouth twitched upwards just once. "You told me to let her get away one day, sir, and stop her before she found trouble."

DG looked back at Hass over her shoulder. "He jumped out of the shadows just as I tried coming into the building," she explained, before looking back at Cain with a brilliant show of teeth.

Cain frowned; it was just one of the many things he was finding hard to believe at the moment. "Why didn't you take her back to the palace, then, Corporal?" he barked. Swells of conflicting emotion were bouncing back and forth inside his head, and after so many weeks on the road, he was finding it hard to concentrate on the foremost anger when DG was grinning at him the way she was. So proud of herself, the brat.

Hass shook his head. "She's got her determined face on," he said, and there was a hint of amusement hidden somewhere in his most serious, deadpan tone. Somewhere in the intervening weeks, the corporal had gotten a handle on his charge; Cain felt relief from an unknown strain, and he felt his jaw relax.

DG glanced over her shoulder, the wattage of her smile never dimming as she shifted from Cain to Hass. "I am going to need to talk to the captain privately," she said, lowering her voice to a whisper. "You get to keep lookout, okay?" She was taunting him, making sure the corporal knew that though he might be paid to guard her life, he was not in charge of it. One look at the young corporal told Cain this was the worst the princess had done since he'd left, so he felt strangely tolerant of her behavior... that, and he'd missed her, more than he cared to admit.

"You're going straight back to Alta Torretta, DG," he said, but he stepped back to allow her to enter the apartment. Hass lifted an eyebrow questioningly. "She'll be out in ten minutes," Cain said.

Hass's lips trembled with his effort to keep a straight face. "Seven," he said firmly, before walking down to the end of the hallway, and taking his position at the top of the stairs. Satisfied, Cain closed the door, and turned to DG.

She was sitting on top of his small kitchen table; the artificial light filtering in from the window showed the outline of her, masses of curls tumbling down her back. When Cain flipped the light on, but with a wave of her hand, DG turned it off again. "How was your trip?" she asked in an innocent, teasing voice.

Cain smirked, and crossed the room. When he stopped a foot away from her, his eyes adjusting to the light, he could see her a little better. A full-toothed grin was etched permanently into place on her beautiful lips, the most amazing _'Welcome home' _he could ever get.

"Trip was long," he said with a groan, as she reached out to grip his open shirt in her hands, to yank him forwards. She settled him into the cradle of her thighs, looking up at him. He smiled down at her, glad for the sight of her, that grin, the curve of her thighs on his legs. "Wasn't much to be found out there."

DG's face changed ever so slightly, as she realized her teasing had led to grownup talk. "Ambrose said you managed to ferret out a couple of Longcoats."

Cain nodded grimly. "Eight, all said and done. Not many, and none of them knew anythin' valuable."

There was silence then, as there was nothing to say. He felt her fingers playing at the button holes on his shirt, and he reached up to take her hands in his. Now... now wasn't the time for talking anyway.

With a deep sigh, Cain took another good, long look at his princess. She only stared up at him, returning his gaze, her sky blue eyes pouring love as her body poured her warmth on him. He lifted a hand to her hair, running his fingers through the tresses, entangling at the back of her neck. She let her head fall back expectantly, and he didn't waste a second disappointing her, placing a long awaited kiss on her lips; she was soft, breathing life into him as she moved against him, tongue seeking, tiny moans escaping like sighs.

Her hands ran up his bare chest, stopping to grip at his shoulders, pulling him towards her. The kiss deepened, as it always inevitably did, his tongue running along hers, that familiar taste of her, the sweetness of DG. When he pulled away, it was because he had to, or he would run the risk of scooping her up and carrying her to his bed.

Seven minutes, no matter how much he'd missed her, just wasn't enough.

DG pouted, but seemed to understand. "Will you come back to the palace and see Jeb?"

Cain nodded, glad for the change of topic, the distraction away from her warm hands on his shoulders. His hand was still in her hair; taking a moment to extract themselves from each other, Cain smoothed his hand down her neck, her back; DG went to the buttons of his shirt, doing them up for him.

"He'll be glad to see you," DG said absently, as she maneuvered the small buttons. "You were taking so long, he was starting to get this look in his eye. I think another few days, and he would have headed out to find you."

Cain smirked. "Sneakin' you out with him, no doubt."

DG looked up at him, feigning offense. "Me? Never." She finished her work, leaving the top two buttons undone; she leaned in to place a kiss on the triangle of flesh left exposed. Tilting her head back again, she nuzzled her nose into his Adam's apple. "Missed you," she breathed softly.

He closed his eyes. "I missed you, too, darlin'." He felt her shiver against him.

DG hopped down off the table as Cain finished getting dressed. When he'd placed his hat on his head, she pressed close again, stealing a kiss from under the brim. Cain opened the door to the hallway for her, ushered her through. "Thank you for walking me home, Tin Man," she said, her voice conveying more than just those simple words – pure love, appreciation, respect, all showing without the need for words everything she felt, everything that had resonated so sharply during this last, long separation.

Where the next ten months would lead them, neither knew, and after that... her Light would be the only thing to push back the darkness they faced, and he would protect her, as he'd done since her arrival in the Zone. The Old Road was long, and every bend in the road brought them to a new place, to a new challenge. What they would face, they would face together. And with that assurance, he was able to lead her home.

**The End**

* * *

Cain and DG's adventures continue in Until the Fall.  
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